Between one of many cracks of the city, she lays...
The unpolished •••el beneath the trash,
Her fragile figure resting on a slab of concrete,
As God looks down upon her and,
Is too scared to cry, when she cannot,
Be sheltered from it...
And through the night, she feels her heart slow,
As her family sits at home,
Never knowing the fate that has imprisoned her...
And her not even knowing,
They'd gladly give her a blanket of stars,
To warm her heart and spirit,
Through those nights,
If only they could,
Though, she doesn't know they would...
And you can't find those who don't want to be found...
__________________
poetry is how I learned
to speak my mind
and oh, the conversations we’ve had...
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