Misty night, the road seemed to be sparsely coated with broken glass.
The scent of rain and smoke quietly wafting in my noise,
I could feel the heaviness of the air pressure in my lungs.
My glance at you becomes more prolong.
standing in solititude as you rub your hand for warmth.
My heart sinks,
My mind is left to wander.
Whose child is this?
A dry lump comes up my throat...
Seeing a young soul facing the horrid side of life,
With no Hope, concerned when they'll get to eat.
No one deserves this.
No one deserves to be a lost wandering soul...
Where you're just a statistic.
Pompous scholars and the ignorant educated will treat you as a number.
They don't care that the little girl in front of me is Sally.
Or that her friend sleeping on the slide is Anne.
Seeing Sally's muddied shoes left me with thoughts,
Images of the multitudes of unknown children left out here.
My instincts is crying to give her my uneaten apple and the spare change in my bag.
That's all I can give her right now.
And it breaks my heart.