She drank up all her savings,

She watched her child die.

She swore by her own salty tears,

That life had passed her by.

She cried in mental anguish,

She ripped her clothes to shreds.

She sang the song of poverty,

The beat was her pounding head.

She never quite learned how to love,

Always too afraid to try.

She knew that on one sunny day,

She’d breath out one last sigh.

She couldn’t hold a steady job,

So of course she had no cash.

She resorted to working on the streets,

She always had her stash.

She lived this way until she died,

At ripe old twenty-eight.

She could have turned her life around,

But now its much too late.