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I saw the knife first
Black handle fisting out of
His pocket
Like a dare
Like a muthafucka won't
Placed the rug on the ground gentle
Like dressing a baby
Ripped boxes to roof his body
Cart parked close
Filled with bags, water, yesterdays
Two eyes close
Only one rests
A prayer
Smell of jasmine
Backpack for a pillow
Piece of hope for tomorrow