Many roads she walked, many roads she travelled

Many dust she breathed, on many stones hath stumbled

All the tears shed, does it stand for anything?

All the pain gripped, does it validate her existence?

At the corner stop she leans on her memory,

Searching for the atoms of complete anonymity.

Where does hope lie in a mountain of incoherent uncertainty?

In the shards of discarded candy wrappers her bits of flesh?

She sat on her make-believe life, watched faces passing by.

As if by watching she could live again, defragment a spirit.

As if by watching she could find a pattern to buy

A better life, a fuller soul, stolen grin, at a price discounted.

At the corner stop she battles her raging fear

Looks for the signs of age on hands gnarled with toil

This is all that she has, all that she holds dear.

Her back, her feet, her hands her atrophied soil.