Late Summer dry air

a picture of the poem, written using a typewriter.

Late Summer dry air
with smells that call back to memories
of going to school.
Walking to the bus stop
To be ridiculed
for your eyes
for your otherness
Are these eyes really so different?
Am I the only one to see
the ignorance
the hate
Smells that call back memories
and now knowing that I have
moved forward.

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