The ground is cold, as she lies there shivering. Cold.
Arms wrapped around her for warmth, she sits in a puddle of sorrow.
Raw and vulnerable, she shields her body from passers-by.
Her long hair covers her face, painted with shame and despair.
Her cries for help unanswered, she waits for an angel.
Squeezing her eyes tight, she thinks of what her life was.
Love filled with hope, wrapping her in security.
Safe from hurt, away from pain.
Time has been cruel, life unkind.
Tears silently stream down her face.
The horror of it all clenching her stomach.
A shudder runs through her, making her cry out.
Still people pass her by.
What can she do?
Who can she turn to?
Help is unattainable.
Despair is inevitable.
As she sits and waits for death to come.
Arms wrapped around her for warmth.