Please would you proofread my poem:
A young girl is sitting and crying at the bus stop.
Her face smeared with makeup, the tissue in her frail hand
drenched in tears.
A heartbreaking scene.
People around her pretend they do not hear anything.
They gaze at the building across the street, look up at the blue sky
and fiddle with their mobile phones.
The young girl is crying uncontrollably
and the pool is forming under her feet.
Why is the damn bus so late?