myrandompoems

She sleeps in a cardboard box at night, while we sleep on a soft cloud-like bed

She smiles not because she is happy, but because she still has hope

She has arguments with herself because she doesn’t have anyone left in her life

She sits on the curb of the street,

Waiting for a kind-hearted soul to come by

And give her shelter

She will not eat food given to her for free, due to her pride, or whatever scraps are left of it

She wears the same clothes day on day without even having a care whether her shoes will “match” the colour of her clothes

Not because she doesn’t have a sense of fashion, but because she doesn’t have the privilege to wear any shoes, nor a lot of clothes for that matter

She cleans her little house daily, but if I can call it a house or not I am unsure

It is more like one of those dens children make when they are little

But she isn’t having fun in hers

She has infections and diseases but fights through them

Everyday

No stopping, no resting

Not because she is busy, but because

She knows that if she rests, she might not wake up the next day

Her hands are crooked, but she loves having them

Her eyes are weary and show her sorrow, I guess that’s another reason that she smiles

Her clothes are no more than patchwork pieces

But she loves them so

She didn’t go to school but speaks fluent English, even though she still has that cockney accent

People see her every day, but do not go near

Only due to fear

Fear of what her frustration will make her do

Fear of all of the feelings, depression, sorrow, and anger, all cooped up in one person

They don’t go near her to help, because of all of these things fitted into one sentence

One, very lonely sentence

It is the fear of the unknown