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When is a person not a person?

When they are different from you?

How many people do we pass by each day?

How many are looking at you?

At what point do we engage with a stranger?

Is that stranger you?

Why does the man sit on the street with a drink

And ask for money from you?

When is a person not a person?

Is that person  you?


©Katy Stewart March 2010


◄ Stopped

Hurt ►


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Andy N

Mon 12th Apr 2010 08:17

one to think about Katy certainly... it'll take a another read or two i think but i enjoyed it certainly..

<Deleted User> (8059)

Sat 10th Apr 2010 17:53

Yeah it guess it was a comment that a lot of the time we are just people. Not a person. And sometimes not very human at all.

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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Sat 10th Apr 2010 16:25

Hi Katy-as you see,I put similar subject poem on,so yes ditto yours and ditto other comments-BIGTIME! keep well oh pink headed one-Stefan-x

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kealan coady

Sat 10th Apr 2010 16:12

good theme, i certainly hope im not a person, otherwise id have to participate in this vulgar race. Anyway what this poem says to me is there a lot of people around but not many humans. Is that what you meant?

<Deleted User> (8059)

Sat 10th Apr 2010 13:02

Thank you for your comments - I really appreciate them - good and bad!

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Steven Dark

Sat 10th Apr 2010 11:57

This is a thought-provoking piece Katy. It reminds me of Erving Goffman's 'Looking Glass' social theory. But much more poetic :)

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