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..
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