If It Wasn't For Poetry (a Mused)

I would tote a 

Glok

Smoke cigarettes

and forget that I was a

Woman

I would allow the

troubles of the world to

Transform me into

a Creature 

of little or no

Consideration of my

Community

I would rebel 

from acknowledging the swollen

bags under the restless eyes

of a woman

Who was once so 

Beautiful

But the same troubles 

had effected her tremendously

Leaving her homeless

and hopeless

I would pass her by

Not even wishing her well

As she throws all of her dreams

to drown in the neighborhood

Wishing well

I would walk right by

leaving her with the story to tell

Knowing that no one 

would listen

They aren't even trying to see

what led her down this path of

Self inflicted misery

If it wasn't for poetry

I would neglect to see that

That woman 

Someday

could be

Me