Gutter Girl

Gutter Girl

She sleeps beneath the pavement,

Where cold winds freely blow,

With yesterday’s old memories

Buried deep below.

Her stomach cries for mercy,

As lonely nights turn blue,

Broken dreams lie beside her,

In the darkness she walks through.

She searches through the rubbish,

For a crust of bread to eat,

Her fingers cold and trembling,

As she wanders down the street.

Bread and butter sound like heaven,

A feast beyond her reach,

While wealthy people hurry past,

With nothing left to teach.

They call her just a gutter girl,

As though she has no name,

As though she chose the pavement,

The hunger and the shame.

Once she was somebody’s child,

With dreams inside her eyes,

Before the world grew cruel enough

To leave her there to die.

I wonder who she used to be,

Before the gutter claimed her soul,

Did she laugh beneath the summer sun,

Before darkness took control?

Did somebody once hold her close,

And promise she’d be safe,

Before the world forgot her name,

And turned its heart away?

Still underneath the dirt,

Her tired heart beats on,

A tiny flame of human hope,

That darkness cannot conquer.

She searches not for riches,

Nor a palace built in gold,

But just enough of life to stop

Her hunger taking hold.

So do not call her gutter girl,

As though she is to blame,

Look beneath the dirt and see

A woman, not her shame.

Every soul deserves a hand,

When life has pushed them down,

No one should be left alone,

While kindness walks around.