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Life on the Streets
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OLD STUFF 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.
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.
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!