essay 3 - Ian Tierson Professor Mahar 4/9/2008 Poverty...

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Ian Tierson 5/12/2009 Professor Mahar Poverty Essay As I sit here and slowly close my eyes, I take another deep breath and feel this pain pass through my body. My eyes open and I return to reality. The sickly- clean stench returns to my nostrils. Steak still lingers burning my tongue with torturous foreign pleasure. The slow tick, tick, tick of the clock goes on…and on…and on. My eyes now begin to focus, and I start to take notice of my environment. My eyes stop on the ever-ticking clock. Every tick is one less I have until…until…until then, when it is all over and I cease to be. Not that I have a lot to lose, I have not ever had much I could call my own. Tick, tick, tick it continues never ending, never tiring, always there counting down the time until the inevitable. I sit in quiet anticipation and in my vain attempts to avoid self-pity I examine my surroundings. The walls of my cell are bleach-white and still they are the ugliest things I have ever seen; somehow, they manage to capture the haunting aura of the time ticking by. I have become accustomed to the filth of the streets and slums. These are relentlessly forcing their sterility onto their captive audience, the sterility people want their world to have. They want a world free of us, the unfortunate and shunned. We have been ostracized for many years now, and we will continue to be unwelcome wherever we go. Today’s society has no place for those of us who have no money. This simple clock sits laughing in my face with its tick, tick, tick of doom. The time, which has become a valuable commodity, need not be wasted on those who are poor. I close my eyes and try to find some place neutral, floating in darkness clearing my mind. This fails to slow that tick, tick, tick of that infernal clock which refuses to let me be. Every
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Tierson 2 second that passes is a second wasted and the time goes on and on, and time is money. This is the incessant, infernal, and unending tick, tick, ticking of time slipping away. The priest enters, and waits for the guard to open the bars and let him in. “Are you sure you wish to waste your time on a man who is already dead father?”
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This essay was uploaded on 04/07/2008 for the course ENGL 101 taught by Professor Mahar during the Fall '06 term at St. John Fisher College.

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essay 3 - Ian Tierson Professor Mahar 4/9/2008 Poverty...

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