The streets are filthy. Just what exactly litters them is left to regular judgement. Trash, puddles, dirt, that is what many see. I alone know the true form of filth that litters the ground. The true form of mockery to this great city.

Dreams.

No, seriously. Dreams, shattered like pieces of broken glass, are left lying all over the place. One cannot walk anywhere on the sidewalk or anywhere else for that matter without absent-mindedly stepping on a few shards, never knowing what they have come across. The truest sense of ignorance possible is the firm belief that it does not exist.

Many people grow up as little kids dreaming of big things for themselves. Being famous movie stars, sports superstars, and so on. It rarely works out that way. Sooner or later, they will look up during their regular nine to five job or in their terribly kept apartment and wonder, where did it all go wrong? Their futures were so bright at that age!

Such moments of despair choke the streets and buildings like the thickest fog. Many secrets and lives are concealed from within, alone with their own forms of failure and fears of whatever madness conspires to take away whatever is left of them.

I saw a kid running through the streets once, wearing raggedy clothing that wouldn't help him when winter came. He rummaged through garbage cans for any source of halfway edible food. He had no family, losing them at an early age to the same forms of madness that plague everyone else down here. He survived only to run from a new madness; The Orphanage.

I saw a woman standing by the curb next to a bar. She was dressed scantily, and rather blunt in stating her profession. She turned tricks for men to earn her bread. She had no other choice, for jobs are scarce, especially in this part of town. The Police are a threat to her because the officials in charge of the Police cannot understand the idea that they have to sleep with the opposite sex, just to be able to eat.

I saw a man lying against a brick wall in an alley, dressed in really bad clothing and stinking. He had once been a prosperous man, earning a very good living. Somehow, he messed it all up, being driven down step by step until he found himself with no home, no money, and using whatever money he was given out of good charity for booze.

I saw a sillouette of a couple in an apartment building, embracing one another. They came from opposite families who hated each other's guts to such a degree that when they found out of this romance, both people were disowned because it scared them to change their ways, their feelings, their beliefs. The families were well done in most regards, and now these two, for the price of their love, were making meager earnings and couldn't afford to start a family.

I saw and old man walking across the road. One look in his eyes and you could see the many horrors he faced at such early ages and still lived to tell the tales. But no one listens to an old man fighting for his life for all of his life. No one cares. No one notices him, like he never existed.

Life should never have lived through all of the cahos and tragedy that exist in the lowest places. It should have been crushed like a plant in between a pile of rocks. It never should have put up a fight.

It never should have survived, yet it did.

Life has flourished with every step it has taken in this journey, side stepping the many obstacles seemingly designed to destroy it. The survivors of such Darwinistic situations should be the true leaders of the world. They understand the pain, the suffering, the rough and tumble struggle for each possible second of life.

And I?

Who am I?

I am no one, nothing, nada. I am merely a phantom, moving silently within the shadows of despair that defeat the rays of hope from the sun. I can be considered an angel, but I do not fit the term. I watch, I observe, I help others through their troubles.

I am the reason the kid continues to rummage through garbage cans rather than eating 3 squares a day at the Orphanage, preferring freedom with poverty rather than imprisionment and nourishment.

I am the reason the woman has sacrificed her dignity rather than sacrifice her body to starvation.

I am the reason the man continues to struggle for one more minute to live, even though his life is far gone.

I am the reason the couple prefers living together and struggling than in comfort, torn apart by the piggish ways of their families.

I am the reason the old man has survived for so long in a violent world and continues to survive until it is his time to leave this mortal world.

I watch like an invisible avenger above people as they walk down darkened alleys and streets, returning to their homes, going to sleep for yet another day in their lives, and yet for many more.

I take away the pain of the dying, offering them a piece of mercy that the cold, hard world never let them have, just before they shed their mortal coil and head to a higher place of inner peace.

I watch people live, love, grow up, die, kill, win, lose, succeed, fail, thrive, survive.

Survive. I am the force that lets them survive.

I give them the hope for a better tomorrow. I give them the love that keeps them going. I give them the mercy that saves their souls.

I am the saviour of hopes and dreams.

I am Faith.