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Summer camp. I stay in a cabin with a lot of kids who come from money. I’m here because Family Services figured this is where I should be spending some of my summer. Away from home, the old man, and the other old man, both dirty old men. So here I am, having a pretty good time, when I get accused by one of the girls in my cabin of stealing her stuff. Shirts, money, socks, a pair of loafers. Nobody stops to wonder where I would stash all the stuff; nobody bothers to try and find out who the real thief is. They just figure that since I come from a poor family, I must be the person who wanted to steal. This is what happens to people who are poor. People think they’re bad for being poor, when most of the time, it’s not their fault.
By rubylubh on 03.30.2016
I, the accused, stand here before you innocent of all charges. How I came to be standing in this cage is a long and convoluted tale. I will begin it now.
There once was a small lamb in a h
By sara on 03.30.2016
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.