Charlie .

my mom woke me up at 8:3O a.m.
she said i had one hour before i had to go to the doctor's office .
i checked my phone and called kevin .
of course he picked up . weird boy, doesnt sleep .
we talked for a good 4O minutes .
discussing pointless shit -- spongebob and our awkward breakfast diets .
then it was time for me to leave to the eye doctor .
driving was usual too .
my mom and i fought over the radio,
til i reigned victorious, singing along to Mario_You Should Let Me Love You
we drove for a pretty good while .
passed by regular everyday things.
everything seemed normal .
til i seen this man .
a homeless man .
an INCREDIBLY homeless man .
he was very shabby .
had an over grown beard , rotting teeth, shredded clothes .
you could tell he desperately needed a shower and hair cut .
his skin was an ashy brown .
he looked hungry .
as he sat doubled over, he protected what looked like 2O trash bags tied together --
his life possessions .
he looked as if he was running mad .
like with each second of additional poverty , he grew more insane .
i felt for this man .
and i promise, my eyes began to water, but i couldn't cry .
i didn't know this man .
but i wanted to .
so i named him Charlie .
Charlie had a wife and a son .
and a temper problem .
after he had been layed off, his wife left him .
that's why he was homeless.
it wasn;t his fault .
i felt for this man .
Charlie didnt deserve this .
i wanted to stop my life for his,
it was the severest case of poverty i had ever witnessed .
regardless of if ive been to nigeria and saw worst cases, i was too young to understand .
but i did now.
we spend our lives dying to be fresh and so clean,
the rich get richer,
and Charlie gets poorer .
ive always had a soft spot for the homeless .
where would they sleep ?
how do they eat ?
do they hate God ?
who do they blame ?
questions .
i always told myself .
one day.
one day, i'd help the homeless .
one day i'd put a homeless person in my car.
give them a meal and a shower .
new clothes and a bible .
show em the way .
give them a second chance at a life, that seemed over .
its the absolute least i can do .
before that dream was just me fucking around .
now, after Charlie, i feel it hard .
it's not fair .
that i can sit here and type, when no one will read this long blubber,
and Charlie's out there sitting near the bus stop under a tree guarding trash.
it aint fair .
if life were fair, we'd never get what we wanted .
cuz everyone's dreams differ .
bad things happen to anyone,
good things happen to the chosen,
fair stuff rarely comes about .
and now im eating a whole box of pizza, to myself .
what about Charlie ?