The man in the orange jumpsuit. Marked for the rest of his life. In a relentless prison system that loves to get people stuck.
Do you see them?
The one with the cardboard sign and blankets sitting on a curb. With an empty stomach and no place to rest their weary body. No place of belonging.
Do you see them?
The girl on the corner, in the short skirt, walking down a street, waiting for a stranger, with only one thing on his mind. Waiting to please and hopefully make some cash. Threatened. Controlled. Trapped.
Do you see them?
The black boy walking to the corner store, as aware of his color as he is of the cops watching him, and the sad, but obvious correlation between the two.
Do you see them?
The one on the corner, waiting to sell the drugs in his pocket, his mind occupied by the hungry little one back home. Only trying to provide a meal.
Do you see them?
The one addicted to drugs. Raped as a child, she found a way to leave it all. Tired eyes. Dependent on a substance that cares no mind to its faithful user, yet it catches her fall. It's there for her more than anyone ever was.
Do you see them?
They are there. All around you. Don't be fooled by the stereotypes. They are human. They have faces and names and stories. Hardened eyes that cry to be seen, to be heard, to be loved.
What will it take for us to see them?
