Life on the Streets


Walking down a crowded street

people scurrying about their way

I take a quick glance down to the side

and I'm humbled at what I see

A little old woman begging for spare change

her lips were cracked and peeling

she wore clothes that were tattered and worn

her eyes spoke of sorrow I couldn't understand

She lives on the streets

and eats what few morsels she can scavenge

her bed is a mere peice of cardboard on cold ground

I pitch a few dollars in her dirty cup

trying to feel better about myself

she looks up at me and I am in horror

I will never be the same again

The look she gave was a one of lost hope

a desperate call for help

something I could not give her

I went home that night to my warm bed

and layed there feeling guilty

for the things that I could not change

Dying to understand

I felt insignificant, like nothing I did could matter

hoping this thing would spare my loves

but I know someone loved her and failed

I cried myself to sleep.

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vipervenomnu's picture

Not really a good poem but I've been there and I know how you felt anyway. I sculpted instead of writing. Not a good choice because I gave that away and will never see it again. Did you make parts up or was it all real? I find myself often adding detail that wasn't there just to make the story better. I doubt you saw the peice of cardboard, or her scavaging for food. You just imagine those things because it helps you understand. Like a frame by frame in a movie you once saw.

Amy L. Maybury's picture

This piece reminds of the song by Phil Collins called 'Just Another Day In Paradise'. It's beautiful and so very true. Thanks for sharing!