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Poem

I should be with playing with my sister, on our bikes in the park.
Racing around and playing games outside, coming home just on dark.
Instead I'm in some doss house, taking ice and smoking dope.
No wonder people look at me and think that there's no hope.

I should be home for dinner, happy conversations around the table.
It's the time of day that I miss, now it seems just like a fable.
Instead I'm on the street, hawking my body and doing tricks.
Just enough money for some drugs, so I can get my fix.

I should be doing homework or hanging out with all my friends.
It seems a distant memory now, I can't see that I can make amends.
Instead I'm in some dirty alley way just lying on the ground.
A crack pipe jammed between my lips, no dignity to be found.

I should be at Gran and Gran pa's house, for Christmas lunch with everyone.
Giving and receiving gifts, sharing fun and laughter after lunch is done.
Instead I'm racing in a stolen car, completely off my head.
It's a wonder that I'm alive at all, I really should be dead.

I don't even wonder what the future holds, I exist from day to day.
Doing crime and doing time, my master drug I need to pay.
I should be with a loving family, but that doesn't exist for me anymore.
I've worn them down too many times I could not but grace the door.

If you could walk into my house, see the family photos on the wall.
Then take a glimpse of me now, I'm not the same happy child at all.
Even mum, dad and the other kids are different people now.
The drug addicted, junkie child has changed them all somehow.

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