She holds a cup in her hand,
begging for loose change, or maybe if she's lucky, a bill.
She looks down and picks up a cigar band,
and a tear slips from her eye, she just doesn't have the will.
The will that she doesn't believe in,
is the will to survive.
She was pushed past her limits, she can't win.
She is ready to give up; she has no more reason to be alive.
She starves.
She craves.
She yearns for love,
but there is no light shining down on her from above.
She sits in the darkness,
alone and hurt.
She hides in her sadness.
Her feelings won't convert.
She picks up her head,
her eyes were cold and dead.
The subway train is almost here.
She stepped forward. She has no more fears.
I felt her pain, as she looked out
planning her fate,
and without a doubt
I knew it was too late.
I tried to scream, but there was no sound.
The girl jumped, and was caught
by the train that was forward bound.
I fell to my knees in tears, for I had not one thought.

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