Sun-bleached baby-girl left lying on the wet-rocky-rigid sidewalk counting passing feet with eyes that have seen an eternity and nothing at all.

Baby has chewed fingers reaching for things that won’t come, always watching with soggy-violet-eyes, waiting with a vacant smile as sticky rain falls down.

Baby girl, left alone to fade to stolid gray, holds raindrop streaks between her fingers, fighting is never enough.

Wasted ashen baby girl left airless-mildewed-dank, lies there in puddles of fallen hope, and she’s

Washed up at fifteen.