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the naive
March 23, 2011
The stale smell of abandoned beds,
The few hopeless patients left for death.
I can feel worry in the air.
I can see doubt in their eyes.
The chattering teeth of freezing patients.
One moment at a time the sick people get closer to the overwhelming truth.
Black cold rusted cots supports patients as if it’s their death beds.
No one dares get close, the naïve say aids is just one short sneeze away.
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