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A notable scratcher in the wilderness

The scrawny who comes early in the morning
And scratches the lotteries here till noon for good luck.
I hear the creaking inner scream of his misery
And everything was written on his jaundice face.
He doesn't cry perhaps all the tears could have dried.
The wildfire brought him the catastrophe to his doorstep
And he lost his all valuables.
He is a newcomer to the homeless of this ugly world.
The burgeois river of democracy still flows silently
And he cuddles his beloved wife and the pet chihuahua in his fading dreams.

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