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Her wrinkled hand rested on a gnarled cane
Patiently waiting out the late afternoon rain
Bags at her feet, as people hurried on their way
Wrapped up in their own thoughts on this wet day
So many years living on out this hard park bench
Breathing in car fumes and her own unwashed stench
She watches as people look away so as not to catch her eyes
And wonders if any of them will ever notice her the day she dies
Or will she become like one of the park's many statuettes
A bronzed corpse etched with all of her remorse and regrets
All she has ever asked for was a little understanding and kindness
Knowing full well the world was only filled with brutality and blindness