unseen they are blending in the crowd,
dark eyes peering from dirt streaked faces
watching in silent despair and hunger
inhaling smoke and dust with their waking breath.
invisible to millions of pairs of eyes
their arms stretched out in supplication
living every day inches from Death’s grasp
riding the waves of rumbling engines that pass by.
their palms turned towards the heavens
waiting for coins to fall like rain
empty stomachs gnawing at their soul
tattered clothing clinging to their skin.
bedding down on the cold pavement
underneath street lamps that bleed yellow
dreaming an escape from their wretched prison
the reality that they often wake up to.
-©The Elusive Scribe 030614-