I’m friend to the forgotten
the undesirable
the muted and passed over
the tossed out and left behind
I write on behalf
of ignored places
the underside of things
squandered moments
for what doesn’t hold a gift
often concealed by grime
or a hard shell or inside
thick piles of sorrow
try picking something up
flipping it over brushing it off
if it just needs cleaning
it may come right to the surface
there I see it don’t you?
the glint of exceptional?
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