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Am I Not A Ghost After All MAG
A broken woman seen as less than human
"help me" she whispered her voice small, empty,
Drowned out by the wind. Please. I'm hungry. So cold.
So cold. No place. Nowhere to go. Please help me.
No one stopped. No one listened. No one even cared.
Her head dropped to her hands. Someone please.
My mommy told me one day I'd find someone.
Someone to love me. Please, someone care.
Her eyes looked up so pained, so small.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched
The stream of clean clothes and faces.
So many visions passing before her eyes.
But none of them there. All of a different world.
Nothing real but the cold bite of the hard concrete.
Nothing real but the pain in her swollen feet.
She wiped the chill of her tears from her dirt-smudged face
Only to have them fall once again.
How many more? How many more tears
Will trickle down carrying me with every
Whimper closer to my neglected end.
She looked up to the heavens "how many more?"
She whispered in the voice of someone
Who knows their prayers are unheard.
The cold, harsh wind blew against her
Lifting the thin hem of her worn skirt
She reached down with her hand to clasp it
Still the demure little damsel of better days
But what is this she thought. Why do I pretend with
All this absurd modesty to be something better than I am
She raised up with the invincible notions of someone who
Doesn't truly exist. "Would they even see my withered frame
As I walked into the caf" and ate the scraps that they left over.
Would they acknowledge me. Would they guess at my having a name
Or even an origin, parents ... somewhere, a heart.
To hope that someone could see beyond these rags and weathered
Skin is to once again break my frozen heart and let flow the
Tears that washed away a layer of what is truly me.
I will not lose another piece. And so I'll go now
I'll see if there is even flesh left on my bones.
Am I not a ghost after all?"