fragmentz

a poem

scum, slapper, slag, whore
words being shouted more and more,
stones are picked up and thrown in her face,
because all society thinks is what a disgrace.

so, slowly, heading home, she takes a walk,
longing for one person who will talk,
maybe say a nice word, or give a smile,
hoping one day to feel that her life is worthwhile.

the needle goes in, no feeling of pain,
as the liquid runs through a vein
silently moving, right up to the eye,
where to sleep she falls, without even a cry.

the nightmares, all the time they come and go,
sometimes thick and fast, but often long and slow,
the morning sun rises, and its back to the streets,
to earn some money from people she meets.

Stood on a corner, a life totally wrecked,
hoping and praying that she can regain some respect.
looking upwards, a tired mind, searching for peace,
longing that all the suffering and aching will cease.

cherished, precious, loved and valuable
the stranger collecting the tears by the bottle full
speaking meaningful words that soak into her soul,
so that someday, once again she can become whole.

© fragmentz