Eye Of Newt

There isn’t much kindness put aside for people like me, people walk past us, living easy lives, that at the time seem so harsh, yet could be so much worse. There isn’t much unsaid about those of us on the streets, I’ve heard it all before, and eventually, it becomes who you are – it is the only definition you are able to gleam from those around you. When everyone thinks you’re worthless, and a screw up, you eventually start to believe it, I’ve tried not to.

There is not much sympathy for, a ‘bum’, a ‘hobo’, a derelict like me, but we are people, we do have feelings, and I guess that’s what hurts the most, the ignorance of people living in their perfect shallow worlds. But I guess life’s not fair. Sometimes there is no happy ending, even though we planned for one. We’re not bad people, most us didn’t do anything to deserve this life on the street, out in the cold while others are wrapped up in their beds dreaming of pleasantries and perfection.

Most of us, who ended up homeless, penniless, and alone, we encountered a hiccup, a rough patch in our once livable lives, and there was no one there to help. There aren’t many people willing to lend a hand, walk beside us, help us out of troubled times, but once in awhile, a very long while, someone will come along and surprise you.

[It’s nice to be able to wear proper shoes, walk on the streets, feeling something constant beneath your feet. It’s nice to live an easy life, not have to worry about when your next meal is, or if you’ll be warm at night. It’s nice to have someone there for you, someone that would recognize you in a room of 50 people. Some of us don’t have any of these things. Some us lost them, not because we are nasty people, not because weren’t deserving of such niceties, but because we happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. The universe is strange like that.]

Each paragraph is interchangeable/editable C: