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Hope is Beautiful

Thoughts on Born into Brothels

From my world swept over by gray and cream and beige

Watch a boy in a ghetto paint a different picture

Framed the way he wants

that captures the colors

In between each wrinkle of an eye

Sneaks in the sadness

Doesn't lie

Elegance is without domain

Veiled by his father's hash smoke screen

How does his Technicolor world look from red rimmed eyes?

Perhaps he is making duck calls

Hunting home the food that will save them

Muting the colors of all but textured mallard green

Missing the last of hope his son pours from a bucket

Into the sea

Where it may find a better home

He snaps a picture of it as it leaves him

And it is beautiful

Boring beige sand

With accents of bright exciting tshirts

of the people stepping

Across all oceans hope is beautiful

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