Neighbor Poem by Hannah Shier

You see that girl there?
Yeah, that one.

The one with the torn clothes, the blotched skin, the one bruised and battered, wearing clothes that make her feel ashamed as she tries to entice others to step into that closed room behind her for a night of fund.

You see her?

You see how she degrades herself?
You see the tears prick at her eyes, threatening to overflow?
You see the gun pointed at the back of her head as she does this throughout the night, throughout the next, throughout this week, this month, this year, her life?

You see her?

No.
You don't

And so you walk on by.