William Sinclair Manson

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My-Poetry / Writings · 2 June 2017

My Poetry. Miss Nobody.

 She walks the streets of London . 
 her hair is matted and dry 
 a face yellow and jaundiced 
 She's forgotten how to cry. 
 No one dares approach her 
 She scowls and roars like a bear 
 This is her defence for survival 
 All she can do is "swear".
 Begging at street corners 
 trying to survive each day
 no one ever talks to her
 There's nothing they want to say.
 She walks all day, sleeps at night
 One eye open most of the time
 Does this girl deserve this life?
 Before she reaches her prime.
 An existence going sadly unnoticed
 Everyone would pass her in disgust
 How could anyone live this way?
 In the depths of despair, she was thrust..
 Labeled without even knowing her
 Assumptions made by the way she appears
 Maybe the reason she lives this way
 Is recognizable with floods of tears.?
 No one bothers, no one cares
 as she ploughs on with her life
 no kind word, no self-respect
 just trouble, pain, and strife
 An occasional person stop to talk
 muttering under her breath
 too scared, to acknowledge the kindness
 All she thinks of is "when will be death."
 How can we allow this to happen
 to a human who is plunged into fear
 she must be someone's little girl
 Someone who was held dear.
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