The Homeless

The rain pounds hard,

The puddles form,

Along with the lines,

For hot food at,

Soup Kitchens,

The homeless struggle to survive,

In the wetness of Downtown Vancouver,

Canada is not a third-world country,

Yet there are the homeless,

The stink of weed,

And the constant number that keeps rising,

Overdoses,

The wetness,

The constant rain,

Those looks that passerby give you,

Are horrible indeed,

Please help the homeless,

Provide some toiletries,

Food or blankets,

And you’ll make a day.

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Author: Henri Darkner

Life is harsh. Love is harsh. God makes it better. If I understood myself, I would not be writing this blog. Just here.

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