The Way I See Things (Aesthetically Pleasing Metamorphosis) Poem by Michelle U

harmony untouched,
withered souls in their unrest
close weary, old eyes.

grasping silver can
loose change will never change things,
keep grasping the can.

large, empty buildings,
motionless, devoid of sound
as men sleep on streets.

debased, head lowered,
unwashed locks of hair,
stains- skin deep, soul deep

the sting of winter
on cold, barren fingertips
reminders of loss.

*The title is also a Haiku*