We have become so jaded,
There is trickery in the world,
But only in bits and pieces,
There is misery,
But only what we carry,
There is so much love to give,
To those who don’t ask for it,
And need it nevertheless...
Lying on the tiled floor in the heat,
I wonder what goes on in her head,
Does she pray for the pain to go away?
Or curse that she struggles to earn a living,
Or maybe resent the harsh, blaring voice,
Devoid of understanding,
Or maybe she thanks God,
For the kind words that pierce the shell of pain.