No more water hosing or truncheons beaten on bare feet,
no nightsticks cracking skulls on Bowery streets.
No cold water straitjackets or rubber padded rooms,
no laudanum doses sweeping minds like a broom.
Now its pretentious centers deluxe
brazenly charging big bucks
for twenty-eight days of schmoozing
to turn off the boozing,
and swallowing mega-vitamin pills
to ward off the chills,
or sit in circles with stories to tell
from like-minded survivors of hell.
More humane we're trying to be
even offering treatment for free
but it is still a choice at any cost.
To choose a sober life or, to an early death be lost.
Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2009
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