I'm tired and I'm lonely,
I'm sickly and I'm cold,
My lips are dry and cracking,
My clothes starting to mold.

Left out on the streets I am,
just a little girl,
Everyone walks by and laughs at my greasy,
stringy curls.

My body is covered in dirt,
My clothes are stained and messy,
I've got scrapes, bumps, and bruises,
with no mother at all to kiss me.

I live in empty doorways, old allyways,
and old abandoned cars,
but my face will always hide my saddest,
deepest scars.

I've seen more and done more in a day
than you may in a lifetime,
just think, all of this and I haven't even
reached my prime.


I've been beaten, stolen, broken,
and taken for granted,
I look at normal people and
I don't think they'd understand it.

I'm homeless but I smile every time
someone looks my way,
because even though I'm not one of
them, I hope they never have a bad day.

He's always lonely,
but he's never alone.
He has everything he could ever want,
but it's never enough.
He has a lot of love,
but he doesn't recognize it.
He sleeps in a dark room in a dark corner in his house.
He has a wife and two kids,
but it seems he doesn't know they're there anymore.
He lingers in a eternity of dark depression...
but if you look closely into his eyes,
you see his soft dark lips smiling...

I'm not sure when I stopped living
And just started to....be
To breath in and out of this empty chest of mine
Blinking and moving
But never feeling