So here I am, in this park, sitting on this bench, day after day, making my rounds, as I, take a rest, from my journeys, my travels, as I am, people watching, with my cart, next to me, carrying my worldly possessions, being a person, among all, the other people, of the world, by being one, of the many, different races, of all creeds, of all religions and yet, I am not treated, the same, as I feel, as though, at times, like I am, the only one here, for I, could stand, in a crowd and scream, but nobody, could hear me, or I, could walk, past you, but you, would not see me, or I, could say, what is on, my mind, but you, would...