Homeless Girl

And there is another one.

The rushing traffic of the blind marches on.

They do not see.

Sometimes you wish that you too were blind

because it easier not to see and easier to forget.

Because when you have vision

you look in to the reflection of the world

and see a cardboard box.

Huddled. Alone. Invisible.

Her swollen eyes

tell you more than you can know.

Dead hair hangs about her face.

Limp life draining away.
She sees you and them

but does not beg.

Without words,

a worn white flag battered by raging winds.

Ambition kills.

Inside sickly sweet victory greets a bloated stomach

as you watch yourself,

standing silent.

Waiting for the clock

to tick forward

and leave us all behind.

Poetry by iRate
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