*as I wake from a fitful dream, I sit up on the park bench that I had spent the night sleeping on. I groggily look around. Strangely the >>

<< was deserted and quiet. Not even the early morning joggers were out and about. And usually the park was full of them at this time of >>>

<< the morning. Some of them mothers with their toddlers in strollers. Pushing them before them as they jog. I have often watched them and>>

<< wondered where my own mother and father was. I have no memories of them. I know nothing of my past, other than being pushed from foster>>

<< home to foster home, until I was twelve years old. Then I ran away. I have lived on the streets since. Though the social services have>>>

<< often tried to get me to go back into the system. I refuse. The streets are better than the homes that I was forced to stay in. Though>>>

<< I have nothing. I am able to live without the fear of being mistreated. I live in the shadows. The only thing that I have to my name, >>>

<< are the clothes on my body and the thin well worn blanket to keep me warm. Sometimes I can get food from the bakery near the park. But>>>

<< more often than not, I do not eat.*

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Did someone say baby?

New avi

-lays quietly sleeping within my mother's womb-

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the shirt says it all

-hides my eyes-