Young One tries to hide her frowning face
I see the scars, the open sores,
Her hair hangs such away in place,
The world sees what she ignores.

Reality.

It has been a while since she had a fix,
Hood up, Eyes darting right and left,
Just looking like she'd been  in a conflict,
Width birth achieved, looking possessed.

Anti-society.

The other Older bends around to light her smoke,
head shielding the wind,  straggled hair showing,
She steps off the curb into traffic,  without a hope,
But the cars don't stop, loud honking and horn blowing.

Climactic.

Leaping back to the curb and looking up at the light,
in disbelief, swears a blue streak that it was her turn,
Defiant waves her smoke in her fist, it was "her right"
Paths about to cross, Past and Future, would they discern?  

The two come face to face, not recognizing, looking stern.

Anti-climactic.