The single shoe, looking forlorn,
The heel scuffed and slightly worn.
Lying, as if abandoned, on the street,
at the busy junction where two roads meet.
Only yards away the crumpled form,
lifeless, staring, yet still warm.
Vomit matted in her hair,
revellers pass without a care.
One too many, they all assume,
as misted neon pierces the gloom.
A night to remember, they all agreed,
fuelled by alcohol, crack and speed.
As her young life slowly ebbs away,
abandoned by her friends, she lay.
Victim to an illegal high,
her parents left to wonder, Why?
Copyright © John Jones | Year Posted 2020
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