The stars hung low that night
To hail the girl who sat on the rooftop
Of a filthy run down cottage
At the end of the 'Homeless Women' lane
Her knees were scraped with callused fingernails
That bled against the chips on the wall she had climbed
To watch those pretty little things shine
And sigh with wonder against the solitary night
The emptiness in her stomach growled
But her wild eyes devoured the moon
Maybe the night resembled her tattered black dress
And stars were just despicable holes in the fabric of sky
Greasy auburn hair hung limp against her skimpy frame
Not many would find beauty on that haunted face
But there was a prepossessing in her pain
The way she never truly had things to lose
So she loved everything we seldom bother to.
It was a cold night on a full moon
The homeless girl breathed her last atop a red roof
No one remembers a slovenly girl with wild eyes
A homeless girl who died in her true home,
Her personal paradise.
Maybe she was only fifteen
But not many can claim
They've worn constellations on their body
Maybe she found her peace
And landed the stars while we were asleep
Maybe the way she died
Is the way most of us fail to live
Maybe we should love the way
A homeless girl once did.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
The stars hung low that night
To hail the girl who sat on the rooftop
Of a filthy run down cottage
At the end of the 'Homeless Women' lane
Her knees were scraped with callused fingernails
That bled against the chips on the wall she had climbed
To watch those pretty little things shine
And sigh with wonder against the solitary night
The emptiness in her stomach growled
But her wild eyes devoured the moon
Maybe the night resembled her tattered black dress
And stars were just despicable holes in the fabric of sky
Greasy auburn hair hung limp against her skimpy frame
Not many would find beauty on that haunted face
But there was a prepossessing in her pain
The way she never truly had things to lose
So she loved everything we seldom bother to.
It was a cold night on a full moon
The homeless girl breathed her last atop a red roof
No one remembers a slovenly girl with wild eyes
A homeless girl who died in her true home,
Her personal paradise.
Maybe she was only fifteen
But not many can claim
They've worn constellations on their body
Maybe she found her peace
And landed the stars while we were asleep
Maybe the way she died
Is the way most of us fail to live
Maybe we should love the way
A homeless girl once did.