Ignorance is Pain

The wail refuses to die,
The plead refuses to go.
Some money for food,
The lady begged in flow.
The hair unwashed for years,
The face overflown with tears.
The smile transformed straight,
A feast of irony and sad haste.
People see and walk fast,
Faster than they normally would.
None stops to hear her plight,
A sadness confused as time flew.
Her clothes are as old as she is,
With no pattern but those of pain.
The cold floor of dust is her bed,
The modesty is lost in being brave.
I watch her and my heart gives way,
I seek answers for my own grave.
A dinner is least I could give,
A blessing is most I would take.
There are many like her I know,
How I wish numbers drown as years' grow.