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When I Was Poor 

When I was hungry,
I stole,
it didn’t matter from where.

When I was cold,
I started a fire,
huddling close.

When I was tired,
I didn’t dare sleep,
fearing someone would kill me.

When I was poor,
I knew I would never forget.
America, do not forget.

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Speaking of Poetry

  • A poem by Thomas Bonville

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