Barefoot in Paris

Dawn breaks, she wakes

Runs to work in bare feet

Torn dress, wears less

To afford enough to eat

Long day, factory

Blistered hands, tired mind

Street is cold, town is old

Alleys smell like cheap wine

And the night never ends

The rest of us don’t understand

And she scans the crowd for friendly faces

But she turns up short in all these places

Why? Why can’t we see

what’s in front of us?

Are we too blind?

Have we closed our eyes

To the reality of life?

Shorn hair, blank stare

Wanders Paris till she’s lost

Moonbeams, broken dreams

Shivers in the winter frost

Thin hands, weak grasp

Crying out through cracked lips

Dark eyes, black skies

Waiting for the apocalypse

Published by madforskating

Confessions of a crazy skating fangirl. Your local Pair Skating Yoda. Sometimes I write about other stuff. • 17 • Asian-American • bi • she/her

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