The Lonely Street Sitter

This is a short story I wrote inspired by a friend of mine; written in a poem form. It's something diferent for me...

I saw her,
That girl who always seems as though she’s invisible.
She never talks & no one ever talks to her.
She almost seems to be in a haze...
It’s really not as if she intends to cling to solitude;
It’s more of her sanctuary from the haunting coldness of the world-
Some call it "La, La, Land," but frankly I prefer, "haze..."
You want to hear her woeful story?
Well, she’d say, "no you don’t!!"
Because she’s been jaded so many times
She wouldn’t want to bother you

This girl spent the entire day trying to produce enough money
For a payphone call
After several hours of searching
An older woman wearing a beautiful red dress
And tall high heels
(Who appeared very wealthy)
Gave her $50.00 right from her purse
The girl did her best to abstain
But the woman seemed rushed
Yet refused to retract
So she took the money feeling quite impotent

It all started with a payphone call and a typical winter night
She dialed the number hastily
As though she were to be in some kind of trouble
There was a short pause...
So cold and dark, it seemed so voiceless that night
Other than her alterative recipient
There was no voice, or anyone in the streets besides
The rarity of a car buzzing by
　
"Hello?" the girl said confused?
Her response was baffled... She replied, "Daddy is that you?!"
"Where’s mom?!" she said seeming upset.
I moved close enough to hear what was being said on the other side
After a short pause again she said,
"Did you get the post card I sent you," as though she was attempting to change the subject for the sake of politeness.
The words her father replied were so callus
I couldn’t help but break down in sympathy
"Don’t ever give me anything! I never want to hear from you or see you again! You and your mother will never amount to anything! You are dead to me..." he said with anger in his voice.

The audacity of the matter was incomprehensible.
She clamored over the agonizing response
What was she to do?
Where was she to go?
Why would he treat her this way?
He said "goodbye," with no offer of remorse
She was verbally beaten from bricks and concrete
Blood shed to the point of near death in her heart
She was lost-lost from speech, and faith, and life
So when you see someone alone
Possibly in a haze
Seeming somewhat unresponsive
Understand that someone could have went through something
Something you will never have to deal with
On your most contemptible day
So for the sake of sheer hope
Say hello to the strangers of the streets
You may be giving them the prospect
Their lives need for the future.