Forbidden Love


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I walk a lonely road

 My head is pounding, my legs ache, and my stomach wants to eject out of my body. I stumble down the sidewalk with an empty beer bottle in my hand. The streets are dark. Only the few golden pools of light help me through my dizzying journey as I concentrate on each step. Left. Right. Left. Right. I stumble into a light post. Left. Right. Left. Right. I almost trip over a homeless man slouched against a wall. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Am I going to throw up? Left. Right. Left. Right. I think I'm going to puke. Left. Right. Left. Right. I collapse on the curb and throw up onto the street. The burning of my stomach acid scalds my nose as I try to breath only from my mouth. Each whiff from my nose makes me want to vomit again. The putrid smell brings nothing but sorrow. My eyes feel bloodshot and tired. My muscles feel weak. And I want to die

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A World Worse Than Death

 I sit on the street. A blanket covers my lap, and I stare at the dull buildings in front of me. A blistering wind blasts through the streets, searching for a victim close to death. The sun begins to rise and glares orange on the building windows. Every person in the city begins to emerge from their home, and treks to work. Each person walks past me. Talking on their phones, breathing heavy breaths of fog, or hands in their pockets. I'm sixteen. Not even an adult yet. But yet I have to fend for myself in the brutal elements of the city. So many times I've thought about walking all the way out to the suburbs, where people are nicer, where you could get food easier. I'm not saying that Chicago is a bad city but, you really have to battle to not get killed or raped in the night. There are many homeless shelters, but it's a magnet for violence. There have been so many stories of people going to those shelters and being beat up. Some don't make it out alive. But it's not uncommon to see a homeless person lying dead in the gutter or on a bench. The bench deaths are always a relief, because you know they died more peacefully than the ones in the gutter. Teenagers that have grown up in the city tend to want to have the sensation of being a god. So they beat up people lesser than them. And there's nothing we can do. There's nothing the city does. All the city does is pick up the body, and bring it to the morgue for 30 days tops. If it's not claimed by a family member, then the body is cremated, and buried in an unmarked site on the outskirts of the city. 

We're all just trash anyway. We serve no purpose in society, which means we shouldn't be apart of it until do. Makes sense right? It did to me. Before I became one of the unwanted scum of the city. Homeless, poor, beggar, bum, hobo, the rotten head of the fish, trash, shit stain. I've been called it all. Mostly by the teenagers that would kill us a night. But in the day, all they do is call us names. There are many homeless that live up to the stereotype of putting a lie on a piece of cardboard, and using the money to buy drugs or alcohol. 

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