Are There No Workhouses?

Our tendency’s to be annoyed
By things we’ve managed to avoid
Until occasions inconvenient;
Take a beat and be more lenient
With the souls whose lives are stuck
In ruts that make you say, “Ew, yuck.”
Shed your shades; perhaps you’ll see
Distaste is such a luxury
That those affected shouldn’t lord it
Over those who can’t afford it.

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