A whore in the underbelly of a city leads men to their ruin. She steals, deceives, cuts throats, and spreads her legs for any who even glance at her. Her looks have degraded and many would gag at the sight of her, but there are always those desperate or malicious enough to seek her service.

Grotesque
Dishonest
Shameless
There is more.

A Deadbeat holed up in his apartment hurts the one he hates the most. Slit wrists act as a calendar for him; counting down days down arms hoping to run out of space so he can justify his end. The ungrateful bastard wastes the most precious gift he was given, and does not concern himself with the sacrifices others made to keep him alive.

Selfish
Greedy
Empty
There is more.

A thug aims his gun robbing a woman for all she has. He grew up in gangs, and was shown that to take what he wants means somebody else has to lose what they have. So he killed, lied, and cheated his way to the top. Now all his friends are dead for the simple reason that they didn’t have the heart to survive in an environment where having a heart makes you a weaker man.

Destructive
Uneducated
Uncivilized
There is more.

There is more beyond the skin, and beyond the sin then most care to admit.

That whore was pregnant at 15, which was no fault of her own. When she held that child in her hands she knew she could do anything as long as that child had a future. So she takes from those willing, and had only ever slit throats when those who could not listen to “No” took it too far.

That Deadbeat knew better then anyone what true pain felt like, So he became the kindest man you could ever imagine. Always ready to lend a hand to family, friends, even strangers. He did this not because he sought pity for his blight, but because he wished for no other to feel a fraction of the storm that he braved everyday.

That Thug was orphaned at a young age. He never learned how to identify right from wrong, until he saw his friends filled with lead; dying for paper… pieces of paper. He never found another route he could take in life, but he spends his free time scaring kids with guns just like he was. He hopes to send them running into a life he couldn’t find leaving their guns behind.

I’ve talked with many a men and women. I’ve judged far too harshly when no one assigned me the role of judge. All the people I’ve met have displayed horrible qualities unbecoming of decent folk, and so have I, but it is entirely impossible to become a saint without having lived a sinner.
I now hope to embrace those I hold dear in their entirety because love is convenient if it is reserved for only the good parts of us, and love is anything but convenient.

The ones who love, the ones who endure, the ones who sacrifice.
The Good People.