Poem:Down and Out

She lay on the cold pavement on Botanic Avenue,
Sometimes the Ormeau Road,
Not that the name of the road is particularly relevant.
She is known to be talking - to herself, to God, to passers by;
Nobody is quite sure who exactly.
It has been speculated by those who pay any attention at all
That there is the possibility of insanity,
Or demonic possession.
My diag-nonsense is that this is what happens when the harshness of life
has its way.
When hopes are shattered and dreams turn to nightmares.
Who the hell would want to be part of the real world
When the real world is full of shit and darkness,
And the Kingdom of Hell reigns in the lives of the lonely,
And the hurting,
She used to be a nurse, she says, amidst barking and making her idiotic noises.
She speaks of her once-was-husband.
My heart is sore listening to her.
I can't restore her life.
I can only offer a listening ear and a cup of coffee for heat and stimulation.
Often I lie to myself, saying that this is enough,
And often I lie to myself, saying that it is not.
Why does nobody see her?
And why don't they see that by not seeing her,
they are enhancing the Kingdom of Hell on earth?
She was showing me her Christmas present from little Sophie the other day.
I want to clone Sophie's heart
And put one into each bitter, idiotic human being,
And how I wish I did not sound cynical.
God bless Sophie, who God-blessed Barbara.
Oh yes, Barbara is her name, if you are interested.
I imagine, however, that you are not
Like the rest of the desensitized people.
Perhaps it's not their fault.
No-one enjoys feeling pain, and it hurts when one's eyes are exposed to reality,
But how will anything ever change if few others see like Sophie?