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"A Lonely Waste Product"
by: Sean Powers
March 14, 2002

I sit there stooped day after day.

My bag is torn and warn out.

Every day is the same,

And the same after that.

It is always the same,

Burnt French fries,

Used cigarettes,

Beer cans,

And whatever else

Is thrown into me.

My smell is as sunny

As my disposition.

All kinds of people

Walk past me day in,

And day out without a

Look of interest in me.

As they discharge

Something from there

Arm to throw into me.

Sorrow and neglect

Are all I can describe

About my life.