In the arms of a different stranger,Each night she'd lay,Hoping to do a super job,And a little more if asked, So she could get enough pay, To get the fix she needs,To make it through yet another day.She has a small daughter,so she must set pay aside,To make sure she gets fed,At times she hates her life, For she knows she'll never,Make an honest wife,Some days she feels so bad,She wished she were dead. For some odd reason,She hangs on tho,Even she's not sure why, She lays there and cries,As she comes down off yet another high.She looks deep into the ceiling,As if it were the sky,She cries out why my Lord why? How did I allow myself,To get into this kind of shape? I don't know how much longer,I can keep up this kind of escape. If there's another way,For me to make an honest pay,Lord take my hand today and show me the way. Because this life of mine,I'm not sure how much longer I can stay,I just know I don't want,To keep going through life this way.
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Author:
Lynn (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 13th, 2012 13:12
- Comment from author about the poem: This was written about a good friend of mine who made a living out there in the streets of hell. I'M greatful to say she is drug free today and works for a well respected company. She has made a great life for her and her daughter. Prayer makes a huge difference along with a lot of hard foot work and a strong desire to servive!She now helps to get others off of drugs and the streets. She had been drug frr for 17 yrs. God Bless her!
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 28
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