Another day, and she sighs
Pain seeping from her drained eyes
Can't go on getting high
I could have stayed, she cries
The streets, they’re cold and bare
The people, they don’t care
No time for talking; they just stare
She thinks of people, people from nowhere
No hurrying along, must prolong
Hey mister, got a shilling for a song
The day drags on, money all gone
The people start on home
And into the night
She’s again, alone.
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Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 30th, 2026 04:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
There is much dignity and beauty in this poem Paul, you have given a homeless drug user a pedestal with compassion and empathy actually breathtaking poetry friend. ❤️
Tough on the streets.
There is a feeling of cold neglect here where the homeless and downtrodden must fend for themselves in an uncaring world. Lonely, hard and sad Paul.
Yeah, it\'s a short life on the streets.
Short enough anywhere Paul
A hard but thoughtful piece my friend
Every city sees it.
thats true, a shame
Honest reality in verse!
Not a lot changes.
Confirm a bad scene. Witnessed it too often. Neat write Paul.
Echoed all around the world.
Paul, this got to me. By the time everyone heads home, she’s still out there carrying the same pain she started the day with. Powerful write, my friend.🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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