Written by: HOLLY MOORE

There is dirt on my face
My clothes are torn
I look forlorn
Like I had just been plucked from the ground
I am not from this place
For people do not understand
The pain goes deeper than I am
They look clean
Like a clear summer’s day
They all go about spending time
I stand still, in disbelief
Unable to process or understand
What happened that day?
Am I going to be okay?
I go and wash my hands.

Holly P. Moore
October 2012