Abandoned. I know this feeling. I know that land.
In the midst of the maddening crowd yet still unknown. In the land of dark mournful streets. Waiting on someone to sing the dirge. Lay siege to emptiness. Oh Yes. Abandoned is a place I know well. Too well. Virtually ignored save by one of a familiar tribe. Neglected. Abandoned.
I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. I pour out before Him my complaint; before Him I tell my trouble. Psalm 142:1-2 NIV
Roaming Urban Gypsy 
Reblogged this on Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit and commented:
Wow!! I received an overwhelmed amazing response to this on my photo blog Roaming Urban Gypsy. It was incredible. My words resonated with many people. So many of us are forced to hide our true selves. Our true honest feelings. We wear the mask and play the part. However on my nightly 1:00 am travels to Penn Station to catch the subway train home this abandoned pink bike captured my thoughts. So beautiful yet abandoned.
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Thanks.