I stare at those.
Scrounging for life
Seething for love
I pity my conscience
That of pity itself
Who are you to me?
More than a nobody?
Why does she struggle? Why does she sweat?
Cut-throat, dog-eat-dog; no sanity.
She tries hard, she tries. Sweats.
Conjuring up her double triple quadruple face, she adapts. Survives.
People watch her sanguine, sad, somber, happy; perfect.
They look upon her. She looks within.
Still she swims and hopes for days better.