Poverty is Not Pretty

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I am hungry. Can you feed me?
Can you take me back home?
I am cold. I am freezing.
Why is there so much snow?
I found a broken mirror, back behind that alley.
I looked into it and found a really ugly girl.
She had dirt on her face, blood behind her ears, swollen hands and feet, and tremors from her fears.
Hair elegantly matted.
Never been brushed.
Her smell was absolutely putrid.
She had never been washed.
A tear made a clear track on her small solemn face.
"Look at me," she said.
"I am such a disgrace."
She remembered her past.
She fell to the ground.
She didn't make a sound.
The silent tears cleaned her face.
She looked up to meet her reflection.
For once, a good memory flashed through her pulsating mind.
There was a feeling she felt that made her feel left behind.
A smile was cracked upon her bleeding mouth.
A shining grin that could last a lifetime.
Then it was gone.





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