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I walk the path of discord, shoulders hunched as I go.
I mumble the secrets of eternity into my collar as I pass you by.
You stop, thinking that maybe I called your name, but you fear to say "excuse me."
You can tell by my step and the strength of my scent that I am not one to be trifled with.
A bag of jellybeans crinkles in my pocket; their fruity smell attracting the gazes of children whose mothers pull them back as I pass.
I have walked this street a million times before, treading over the same patterns of cracks and zig-zag fissures day after day.
The tread has worn from my broken-heeled boots, leaving a dark trail on the concrete pathway.
Familiar people pass me, throwing me familiar glances of familiar distaste.
The dog that lives in the alleyway of a butcher shop comes out after me.
Same fucking dog barking the same fucking barks. He acts the tough guy, flexing his nuts, but he knows better than to attack.
I am not one to be trifled with, by man or beast.
My dirty coat flaps open around my legs, making my shadow into a strange bird in flight.
Same shit, different day.
I walk on, turning corner after corner, hour after hour.
Here you are, again, coming back from wherever it is you people go. You slow when you see me, sure that you know me, know my life and trials.
You start to say something as we pass, but my eye rolls your way and you think better of it.
I am not one to be trifled with.
I walk the path of discord, shoulders hunched as I go.
I mumble the secrets of eternity into my collar as I pass you by.
You stop, thinking that maybe I called your name, but you fear to say "excuse me."
You can tell by my step and the strength of my scent that I am not one to be trifled with.
A bag of jellybeans crinkles in my pocket; their fruity smell attracting the gazes of children whose mothers pull them back as I pass.
I have walked this street a million times before, treading over the same patterns of cracks and zig-zag fissures day after day.
The tread has worn from my broken-heeled boots, leaving a dark trail on the concrete pathway.
Familiar people pass me, throwing me familiar glances of familiar distaste.
The dog that lives in the alleyway of a butcher shop comes out after me.
Same fucking dog barking the same fucking barks. He acts the tough guy, flexing his nuts, but he knows better than to attack.
I am not one to be trifled with, by man or beast.
My dirty coat flaps open around my legs, making my shadow into a strange bird in flight.
Same shit, different day.
I walk on, turning corner after corner, hour after hour.
Here you are, again, coming back from wherever it is you people go. You slow when you see me, sure that you know me, know my life and trials.
You start to say something as we pass, but my eye rolls your way and you think better of it.
I am not one to be trifled with.