work overnights, in a shelter, usually by myself so I have a lot of time to reflect and write.

She has been the downfall of many others in an attempt to claw her way out of the pit that life has thrown her into. She doesn’t realize this. Walking around with, in her eyes, a life together. It is but a humble attempt to share her gospel with those who need it. People fall into her grasp, like a matron of sorts; and, as the calves suckle from her teet she too turns to the bottle.

Watch is all I can do as their lives pass by the window. Stories are exchanged as I pass them a room key, positive passives mostly. My nature is not to pry. But I can see in each one is a dam ready to break, every once in a while spilling over the side or through a crack. I’m not an engineer, I barely have a bachelor of arts. How am I supposed to listen to these traumas and offer advice?