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 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