Lost Girls

Lost Girls

 

 I’ve decided to write.

Tonight’s not like any other night.

Everything feels right, nothing’s wrong.

I haven’t felt this way in so long.

I’m at peace, all the chaos has finally ceased.

There’s so much to be grateful for.

God is opening so many doors.

Have you ever looked at the stars.

And wondered if there’s life force on mars.

And if their struggles are the same as ours.

My mind is not somewhere far away.

The only thing I worry about is what to cook today.

I’m not on the streets walking the beat.

Panhandling just to get a bite to eat.

Some angel sent down to lend a hand.

In the form of some perverted man.

And when I do get the money it’s like bee’s on honey.

YUP!

Dope boys ridin’ with that look like…WASSUP!

So I do what I do, and I run like a little girl late for school.

They see desperation in my eyes.

They ask me.

Do you need this?

And of course I lie.

They’re tigers looking for meat.

So I get high and I’m back on the streets, with nowhere to go.

I know some old man’s looking for a show.

It’s lonely out here.

Damn, no one knows.

I look and see girls just as lonely as me, wishing to pray or praying to wish to be free.

But drugs were all we were able to see.

And I know deep down inside this isn’t really me.

I knew this man he took my girl for a ride.

I told her not to go she said she wouldn’t but she lied.

She thought I was try’na steal her trick.

It’s funny how a junkies mind ticks.

The core of this disease had me constantly on my knees and it wasn’t to pray.

ANYWAY.

There were many days I had to swallow my pride.

I was seriously contemplating suicide.

I just wanted to kill myself and die.

I was a hopeless bum ten times over and then some.

Why did my friend have to go for that ride?

I got this really strange feeling inside.

I kept seeing visions of her being swept up on a tide.

I kept getting these visions over and over again.

She’s probably high, real hard to defend.

It was during my worst days that I prayed.

I was walking through life’s crazy maze, and in an alley way there my friend laid.

This was bad news. I was lost and completely confused and was living in a world of self-centered fools!

I’ve been asking God to send me a sign.

Leave this place, right now’s the time.

This is where I’m at this moment is mine.

Should I stay or should I go?

Please someone help me ‘cause I don’t know.

All I know is where I’ve been, near death experiences and 100% sin.

I’ll never forget how I let this disease win.

When I think of the fire I’ve survived.

I often wonder why I’m still alive.

God has this major plan and I’m so excited cause I haven’t ran.

My friend got killed by some crazy man… but I believe she was part of Gods perfect plan.

Some have to die for others to live and for that reason I promise to give all of me to recovery.

I have one chance to make this right.

And for that reason I promise to always walk in Gods eye sight.

Wanna walk in my shoes?

I don’t think so.

These are places no one should ever go.

 

 

                             Thank you, Ladies of the Night.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Exclusive Inflictions

by Kelly Lewis

Whims of a wanderer.

Whims of a supernova!

chanchalk

Sublimely magical words

Voyages

I'm just stopping by for a moment, so let's spend some time together.

Homespun

Spoken Word

Valentine's Fall

In a Manner of Poetry

new wave musings

thoughts of a full-time crybaby

I'm a teacher, again

To me writing is currently a release. I haven't quite decided to what degree it is I'm searching within my words, yet, I feel something matters somewhere, right?

Brave & Reckless

Reclaiming my inner badass at 50

Shahabistan

Vox clamantis in deserto

Shiny Objects

Rambling ruminations from an addled mind.

The Number 26

Stories about passengers travelling aboard the Number 26 bus from somewhere to somewhere

The Renegade Press

Tales from the mouth of a wolf

Daphne Shadows

Daphne Shadows: Storyteller / Authentic Mess

A Writer's Soul

"Diving into a writers soul is discovering the broken treasure and beautiful mysteries that make you gasp for air."

(CALIATH)

The poetry of ineptitude.

newtoneapblog

A Discarded Plant

Speaking Bipolar

Help to Successfully Live with Chronic Illness, Bipolar Disorder, and Familial Mediterranean Fever