Damaged

I saw a run-down home:
cheap and tattered curtains,
they were yellow and stained,
the grass was overgrown,
the wood paneling on the house
was missing pieces,
I think the paint was blue,
but so much of it had chipped off
it was hard to tell.
The concrete steps leading up
to the open, damaged door
were littered with cigarette butts,
empty bottles, empty cans,
cans of cigarette butts –
one was tipped over and spilling,
here she sat:

her body was large and swollen –  
she was pregnant,

but aside from her breasts and belly,
her skin hung limply.
Her lack of nutrition
and preference for crack
displayed itself in her face.
Her eyes couldn’t quite see me.
The baby kicked
and she took another drag.






©Shelley Marie