The Same Litterbox

Crack pipes inspected by pigeons lurking their soiled grounds for any food possible,
Puts a crack or two through my shield of peace.
As well as Scooby,
A stray dog I happily bumped into,
Feeling guilty for how weary he appeared to be from trying so hard to stay up,
On his petite paws.
Or Lioness,
The stray cat crossing by me so tired from its day of hunting.
Turtle-like as it tried speeding away when taking notice of my bittersweet stroll down Wadsworth on a late,
Breezy morning.
All I seem to think about are a couple of questions.
Why are they there?
Why am I here?…

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