Escape

Filthy holes in my shoes,
There are ladders in my tights,
Tears in skirt is old news,
As well as blood filled bites,

Glass filled hands are bleeding,
But freezing in the snow,
No ones eyes I'm pleasing,
That I am sure I know,

My hair is burnt to shreds,
While my teeth turn furry,
I'm begging for my meds,
My beating head is in a flurry,

People pass by choking,
At my rather horrid smell,
People stand by smoking,
Sarcastic tones 'She is swell'

I am followed by their laughter,
Sympathy is not given,
But when it's you their after,
It's either this or prison.