You Don’t Know My Story

You don’t know my story

But so often

You are quick

To judge me.

I once had

A beautiful home

A family who loved me

But that was all taken

From me.

My belongings now fit

In an old supermarket basket

Which I’d always near me.

My most cherished possession

A family photo

Long since faded.

You don’t know

My story

But you step

Over me

Like I don’t matter,

As I fight back tears.

I was once you

In fancy clothes

And designer shoes.

(C) Michelle R Kidwell

November.12.2015