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Five Dollars

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“You can spare five dollars,” Sympathy challenged.
Greed retorted, “Or you can buy yourself a coffee.”
“He needs it more than you do,” Sympathy spat.
Greed laughed. “But you love coffee.”

 

The homeless man’s beaten, brown eyes,
they begged for help.
His musty, moth-eaten clothes,
they screamed for support.

 

“It’s just five dollars,” Sympathy persuaded.
Greed rebutted, “But that coffee—”
It’s just five dollars,
and after all, that man needs it more.






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