CC: The Container Filled with Wasted Potential

A woman helplessly rummages through the remains of others, 

Searching desperately through the container filled with wasted potential.

Her mind screams—scrutinizing the rich and sympathizing with the poor,

Sympathizing with her friends, her family.

She reaches further down, praying to find a dirty, used piece of cloth.

She would be happy to find one.

No, not happy—elated.

The splitting pain in her head has remained constant,

As constant as the reoccurring waves of the ocean.

Every night, her wearied body collapses on the solid ground,

Unable to rest easy, due to her tireless efforts and the rough feel of the asphalt against her precious head.

“Please God, grant me the gift of a soft and lightless pillow” she whispers.

Perhaps tomorrow will be the day-

The day in which a worn-out, musty cloth will appear within the garbage bin,

Patiently waiting to be placed just beneath her head.

And with that, she will breathe a sigh of relief.

The pounding in her head will drift off—

And so will she, deep and darkly into the night.

Goodnight, sweet woman. May tomorrow bring you solace.

May the cloth that you so strongly wish for be placed in your callused and overworked hands.

May your hungry belly be filled with something other than the spoiled and putrid vegetables from the container—

The container filled with wasted potential.