A figure by the traffic lights

Face washed out in the rain

She's here once more to make her nightly

Stand for love and pain

Her story written on her face

Reading between the lines;

Still private in this public place

She's carefully designed

Her open secret

Reliant on their charity

To feed and clothe her kids

She holds a card out to the drivers

Behind it safely hidden

Her little sceret

For their eyes alone

And she only needs a moment of weakness

Window wound down just a crack

And she'll explode with all that pent-up stuff inside her

And attack

With her scissors

Secret scissors

Sharpened scissors