They

They are the forgotten ones, the unfortunates, the ones for whom success was just too out of reach.

You can see them in dark alleys as they rummage for food scraps, always hiding their faces from view, ashamed that life beat them down and embarrassed by their demeanour and filth.

They're the ones who's Christmas will be celebrated with a handout, maybe a bowl of lukewarm broth and some bread, maybe.

They're the ones who shuffle by and avoid eye contact, for fear that you'll see the pain of being worthless, the dregs of humanity who deserve all they get for not having luck on their side.

Maybe they ended up homeless by design, or maybe they just made a mistake along the way, either way they cannot fall further from grace than the gutter, there's nowhere lower than that. Even our worst criminals get housed for free.

But not them.