Dear dad,
Thank you so much for bringing me some forgiveness, though it ain't quite that easy. All of my life is like dangerous and not cool. I have internet issues and I'm a teenage widow of a child. I'm nearly in my 20s now. I remember that poem you gave me. It was something like this:
The Cameras were watching people,
not the robots.
The Robots watch humans die of natural diseases.
The cameras were like the Hunger games, but it keeps spying on people,
like a robot. But, why would it be a robot?
What would it be? All we know that people can look for you, spy on you; well, watch you.
The Camera is basically a stalker of our personal things we do.
Why would I do that of course? It's just one abnormal thing after another. A young kid walked up to me, little eyes watching me. He laughed. "You have dirt on your face!"
Of course I do, I'm homeless. I only have enough coins for stamps, but the main point is that little kids make fun of the homeless and point at them. Why would they make fun of the homeless? It's like the olden days where grandma was made fun of for her green eyes that bounced. Did you know that Christmas is in 4 days and I haven't got enough.
Please send me a miracle.
Love, Mirobelle.
