Working the magic

I walk amongst the broken. They speak to me and I listen. I say smart things in return and try to console their fears and help them to see the "brighter" side of the situation. My weakness? That I care too much about each of them. I leave work at the end of the day feeling helpless yet hopeful... But helpless none the less. I love the broken people that I work with. The 9 year old redhead whose adoptive parents decided that they no longer wanted her. The 16 year old crack-addicted prostitute who's 8 1/2 months pregnant and homeless to boot. The meth addicted 12 year old who is being conditioned by other street workers to join forces with them. They all hold these special places in my heart. They pull at my heart strings. But I can't take them all home and love them until they're better and all of the hurt goes away. So I listen and I say smart things and I love them dearly, but then at the end of the day thats all that I CAN do.