I live in the inner city
With the Poor, the Addicted, the Sick.
We are all poor.
I do not beg,
I maintain a state of dignity
Like most of us
Even if we can’t eat.
Some beggars have more than I have
But need cigarettes.
The Addicted –
Tend to have tight networks of friends
And have places to stay
Off the streets.
Or various institutions will take them in
From time to time.
They can come up with masses of money
Sometimes
To avoid jail.
The Sick –
Over time are discovered,
Apprehended
And taken to the hospital.
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It is so easy when we live in a world that has so much drugs
readily available. Many people are brilliant souls that just have
had many bad breaks in life. Thank you for sharing this real
and deep poem that shows the reality of life. Prayers and hugs. Vie
giving them something, Been there. I no the pain. Thanks for your beautiful rendering.
I admired my dad when he, after 20 years of smoking, with half a carton consumed and still driving truck on long boring trips, stopped cold turkey. It lengthened his life and he was healthier. But I never started smoking after seeing what it really was. And all of the "highs" that are available to young people these days, are simply traps for addiction that they do not know from an experience.
Ron