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Runaways and troubled children
I see a kindly moonlit harbor in the peaceful night.
I see the children hiding in the seagrass.
I hear the silence of the night.
It’s so quiet the crickets don’t dare chirp.
I smell the wretched smell of mud mixed with fish and moisture.
“Once you get used to it, it’s not so bad”.
Who would ever want to be here?
“those who aren’t accepted”.
“those who come from troubled pasts’ too horrid”.
“those who are misunderstood”.
“those who have will never go back”.
I feel a warm breeze in and out now the smell has become bearable.
I feel the glares of the children of the harbor.
I feel at home here.
I feel free of my past.
I smell the scent of the harbor.
“What a welcoming smell”.
I hear the songs I sing along with the children.
“I hear their cries for a better life”.
I see just the pale white moon filling craters in the swamp.
I see my guiding light.
Who wouldn’t want to be here?
“Nobody, Nobody” …
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