Homeless

In a city centre,
Full of life, bustling with energy that you can feel it.
Feel the waves of energy pulsing through the air.
You can look to the sky and feel it.
You can look in the windows and feel it.
Or you can look on the corner.
The corner you pass everyday.
And feel cold.
Feel lifeless.
Dead.
The woman sitting on the pavement.
Everyday... just sitting there looking at the floor.
As if counting the cracks like wrinkles on a face.
Like the wrinkles on her face.
Her forlorn aged face.
Her frowning, crying, lying, dying, forlorn aged face.
And see her every single day.
Just staring at the floor. As if it may hold the secret that may help her out
Of the mess she made.
And you see her every single day.
You see her and you lie.
You look away and pretend not to notice.
Acting like she's part of the furniture
Just a simple scene setter.
You can look to the skies, you can look to the roads and pretend you didn't see.
Because you don't want to see.
You don't want to see her because if you face her.
You face her and turn her away.
As you will turn her away.
You face her and turn her away. And you'll have to face yourself.
Which is the hardest part of this cruel sickening game.
A game in which the dice keep rolling.
You look at this woman, and you see nothing.
She has no past.
No future.
She barely has a present.
She's no life.
No personality.
She's barely a person.
You look at this woman sitting on the ground, with the cold seeping up her legs,
And you don't see anything.
When I see this woman,
I think.
What happpened to her past. What will happen to her future?
I think of who she is.
How she got here.
Why she got here.
Forever facing myself.
Facing myself like you know you must do.
But you're afraid to do.
Am I right?
I'm always right.
You're afraid that if you look at her for who she is- not what she is,
And think about her tragedy she calls her life,
That you'll have to ask yourself-
Why didn't I help her?
Why did I look away and walk on by?
You didn't even smile. You turned away with a heart as cold as the pavement on which she resides.
The next day is the same
And the day after that is not unlike it.
The dice just keeps on rolling right?
Out of your control right?
You're a puppet on a string, you've got the scissors in your hands, but you believe you don't contol it.
You don't realise that one tug of your string.
One tiny tug of your string.
And you could change your life forever.
Change her life forever.
But what happens when there comes that day...


The day when you pass the corner.
The corner where you feel cold.
Feel lifeless.
Dead.
And there's no woman there.
Nobody sitting thier counting the cracks on the pavement.
Where you wonder if you could have helped her.
You wonder where she may be.
If she may be.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Dead.