rags and riches

you're so beautiful, standing there in your stitched-up clothes and torn stockings. holding your cardboard sign saying you want to go somewhere, anywhere, just so you can feel lonely in a different place. you're so lovely with your young hands and old face, whittled away by worry and weed. with your humble way of existing. what's your story? why do you look at me that way in my pink porche heading to my mansion where i bathe in money and music? i'm just admiring the way you have nothing. who are you to make me feel so ugly? why am i crying?