The Hitchhiker
She stands on the roadside,
Covered in naught but a shawl.
A car passes by, she waves them down.
Does anyone stop? No one at all.
She walks on further,
Huddled in the rain.
Still the cars drive on,
None feeling her pain.
She is still young,
Only nineteen or twenty,
So why is she out there?
Her life seems so empty.
She looks out at the cars,
Her eyes pleading, so hurt.
Still on and on they drive,
Throwing mud upon her shirt.
She walks on and stumbles,
She falls to her knees.
In the puddles, down in the mud.
“Help me” she pleads.
The cars continue on.
She is the object of their stares.
She picks herself up,
Knowing no one really cares.
She begins to get weak,
Her strength is slowly fading.
She reaches out as a van passes by.
They look out their windows, oblivious to her calling.
How has she come to be like this?
No one could ever deserve
This type of pain inflicted on one
Who looks so reserved.
Was it a child or love
That had forsaken her?
Lost and forlorn,
Alone in her crumbling world.
She knows she’s finished,
She can’t go on.
She falls to the ground on last time,
It’s been so long!
Her eyes close.
Her heart beats its last.
Still the cars go on,
Caring not about present or past.
Tomorrow morning her body
Will finally be picked up.
Tossed in a truck and buried,
Without an ounce of love.
Is there anyone who would care?
What if it were you or I?
My guess is not,
So she continues her silent cry.
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