The Past

The past is the past, but the fear is still here. My lot is not cast, but the time it draws near Memories of troubled days, Funerals of friends, but I'm still just a mourner homeless on a street corner. lifestyle of empty ways too weak to get up, food from the shelter, people pass by, unaware of my plight. moments of clarity followed by helter skelter then, a warm bed for the night. Alone in my world, watching you drive by walking down streets of homes, wondering where I went wrong "How do they do it?" So happy and spry a house and a car to call my own do I long. All family is burned, those bridges are gone rivers to deep to every cross ever safely until I found her, she took me in right or wrong or did she find me, I still thank her daily I've since changed my ways..and a Lord I do follow I'm scared of my memories, as grim reminder That past it can haunt you, a gulp when I swallow for if I turn back, away from my Lord, the streets they will swallow My life has been bought by a man I never knew I'm glad he's my savior, and suggest him for you..