The chill's just in my skin,
Besides, my home is cosy and toasty,
When I'm let in again,
But this beaded seat cover's a boon, too,
The coffee's strong and warm,
There's little risk of vi'lence on this street,
No last night's syringes scattered this morn,
The odd car drowns out the chirping of birds,
Both with places to go,
I flit 'tween varied messaging forums,
Alas, there's naught to show,
Though, I've a phone,
Reaching out's in my pow'r,
'Til the batt'ry dies, and I fall asleep,
Entering dreams e'en more lonely and dour.
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