Grip Of Drugs
The wheels of the chaotic times churn for them
the sands of demolished dreams in the desert of life,
settling frenzied on the unstratified fragile structure
of the disorganized dunes of their desolate existence.
The sequestered moments of distressed awareness,
drift the dust of disarray to the foyer of failed being.
The truth of trustful conviction sinks under suffering
made with mirage on the ruffled ripples of disorder.
In lonesome languished life’s impoverished landscape,
sorrow-paved pathways contour convoluted uncertainty,
wind to nowhere at the fading fringe of the time future,
beyond the befuddled perception of toiling time present.
In their murky manifestation drugs promise barred freedom,
tender transitory escape from reality, as they crawl under skin,
strengthen grip on pain that silently subsides for a while
in bodies slumped in smoky alleys, eyes unclosed but not seeing.
With the faceless faces smeared by the shadows of scorn
they walk on the slimy illusive streets of hollow dreams.
Life trampled by insolent wavering footsteps in journey
under the stupor of opoids that never ends their pain.
They seek caring understanding of the society to help them
in search of the lighted path away from lone domain of despair
for their suffering souls to discern the abode of empathy,
as they strive to find the way out of the tunnel of dark time.
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