Poverty

I've been thinking of a way to write about the poverty I see within my own city and the poverty I've seen everywhere I've been. The thing I've realized is that there really is no poetic way to write about poverty. There is nothing poetic about digging through garbage day in and day out in search of a plastic bottle to sell. There is nothing romantic about watching a mother neglect her baby while she lights up her crack pipe on a  bus stop bench as the baby wails away. There is nothing artistic on sitting at a corner all day and begging for change then going to a shelter for a bit of free food and a place to sleep if the shelter isn't already full. There is nothing respectful of watching a race of people drink their days away, barley able to walk as the world swims within their vision, the alcohol numbing any and all pain, beating your wife or girlfriend with no remorse. There is nothing glorious about the desperation to make ends meet that people resort to the violent robbings of other human beings and even murder. There is nothing good about poverty, not for the community, nor for the people trapped within its clutches. Every day I see these things on the streets of my city, and every day I wish there was something significant I could do to lessen it.