i looked into his hungry eyes
and saw the curse.
the curse his grand parents passed down to his parents
and his parents to him
i saw his dusty swarthy skin,
and his scarred finger weaving straws beside his sleeping sister
i fought the urge to question him,
to ask where his mother was
was she thinking about them?
i looked into his eyes
and saw his world,
how primal and scarred it was.
i will never forget his feeble voice
when he asked what i wanted.
how his hands were
when i gave him the money.
how desperately happy he was
that he has sold a bottle of coke
to a stranger..
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