They do not look,
they do not gaze,
they do not have eyes like your's or mine.
They have no soul,
they have no meaning,
just to stand there with life no longer gleaming.
There is no spark,
there is no life,
only the demons in the middle of the night.
Once they were people,
like You and I,
once they were people,
but then they died.
Their faces, contorted.
Fingernails filled with dirt,
No family,
no friends,
you could not fathom their world of hurt.
No faces,
no one,
they are not people.
just demons in the middle of the street.