Penny for the blind

I think I'm a terrible, awful person.
I've probably said that before, but didn't mean it, or said it in a completely different context, but this time, I'm pretty damn sure I'm going to hell.
There are bums/hobos/street people in the city. That's a fact. I walk past them everyday. Not even Lincoln Park, one of Chicago's poshest neighborhoods, is impervious them. They rattle their cups or try to sell you Street Wise, and you walk past them without batting an eye lash. But yesterday was different.
There was a man wearing semi-dirty clothes outside the Fullerton "L" stop with a box full of red roses. At first, I couldn't see how much the roses were, and I most definitely walked to the far left (wrong) side of the sidewalk so he wouldn't try to heckle me. That's when I noticed the sign. Please, Donate to the Blind.
Immediately, my thought was, At least he can't see me.
And then I realized how terrible of a person I am.
This all happened around 3:00 pm while I was on my way to choir rehearsal. Three hours later the man was still there selling roses for the blind, still half smiling, and my self worth dropped even lower.
Honestly, I didn't have a penny on me! Otherwise, I would have donated to redeem myself. They were nice roses too...
Maybe I'll go Oedipus Rex style and gouge my eyes out and walk through the world alone, in exile.
Well, at least I didn't fuck my mom and kill my dad...