When you first move to the city, you feel sorry for the homeless.
You give what you can, to this person shivering, with blood and puss coming out of their face and think about how your helping.
Then weeks go by,
And the same homeless people are sitting in the same corners.
With the same blood and puss stains.
And they are in the same spots,
doing the same thing.
Almost like a job.
So you stop feeling bad,yet at the same time,
you start feeling bad, because you don’t feel bad anymore.
You look through these people,
through their eyes,
the sores on the side of their face.
You ignore their questions,
bury your face in your phone.
you don’t feel anything,
which is worse part of all.