I am poor and live in a cardboard box. You live in a mansion, but don’t have enough money to help me. Every single day, you walk past me with a look of disgust. You won’t spare a single penny for a hungry girl. I am close to death, and you eat fine foods and drink the best wine. You think I am someone who will only do horrid crimes. You will never see my full potential. I am homeless, but you call me a “hobo”. What did I do to deserve that awful title? Is it because my parents died? Why can’t you help me?

I cry out to people every day, and only one kind soul gives me a coin that she can’t afford to spare. But for some reason, she does give me that coin. And you have millions of dollars, but can’t even give me one. Why? Am I too dirty? Too smelly? I can’t bathe. I can’t even find a simple sip of water. I only have that one woman. She sometimes shares her lunch with me, but she has 7 kids. You have none. So what is stopping you?

I am on my last breath, but you have years and years left. You are 40 years old, and I am 8 years old. Why do you get to live a long life? Why must I die in the cold hard streets at a young age? My parents died homeless, I don’t want that same fate. Please help me! I am begging you! I won’t live much longer. I haven’t even had a doll or a friend. I haven’t ever been able to be a kid.

I will die with this letter in my hand, so at least you can see what I suffered through. But you won’t care. At least that kind woman will. I hope this letter gets out to the world. So people can learn to care for others. And so people can learn how to be kind. This won’t touch everyone, but it might touch few people. Hopefully this will make an impact. So I write this with my last breath, God bless you and the world. Tonight, Jesus is taking me home.
Signed,
The Homeless Girl