Filth filled her hair all the way down to her feet
A lone soul walking down an empty street
A view of Picket fences cutting through the horizon
A picture, to her soul like poison
No place to be, nowhere to go
Who are thee I do not wish to know
Close your blinds, as well as your hearts
Whether you’re playing bridge or playing darts
Her existence is merely a mistake
Misfortune, perhaps a family that was fake!
Blinds closing, one after one, as if in harmony
Thus, hate, rejection, and bigotry
Violence sprung out of her pores
Can’t hold it in anymore, bang on those doors
Scattered families all around
Looking with aw yet holding their ground
It’s a battlefield in the suburbs today
Get ready, a stranger has come to play
She looks steadily at them through that commotion
When sounds finally dried out, yet no motion,
All start asking, who are you? To whom do you pray?
She only answers: ‘I am you, and I do not pray!’
A voice: ”Her existence is a mistake
Misfortune, perhaps a family that was fake!”
Frustrated, teary-eyed but still very firm
She walks away: ”Don’t mind me, I’m simply a germ”!
