An old stooped figure Near the garbage bin A thousand wrinkles, And a figure so thin, She stares into empty space, With dark vacant eyes. Bundled in a dark corner, Covered by filth and flies. Her spirit broken, By years of pain. Her visage scarred, By heat and rain. The beggar woman, With a crinkled brow. All she had with her, Was her own shadow. Shunned and alone, With rags to adorn, All bones and skin, She sits alone in the din, And silently watches all. The sad and the happy, The gain and the loss, In the drama of life, That flows across.
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