Addiction
By Edward Taylor III
Souls wandering the streets, no home, no rest, slaves to their feet: feet worn & bruised beating the pavement.
Souls searching for their escape from realities harsh truth, addicted to the fantasy, addicted to hopeless freedom & its seductive touch, addicted to pleasure, sins sudden rush…
Souls only satisfied with one moment in time, but lost forever, Souls wandering the streets, no home, no rest, slaves to their feet.
Do you see them…?
Do you see them wandering? Alive while yet dieing, ravenous for the thrill, the feeling of flying:
Flying away from the hurt & the pain, flying away from the memories of the shame, which haunts every sober moment…
Souls wandering the streets, no home, no rest,
slaves to their feet…
Taylor's Poetry Corner 
Have you ever wandered how the person you see, from time to time, wondering the streets got to that point; what was the condition of that persons state of mind, you now, the one that you drive past holding that “HELP ME” sign asking for a buck. I wrote this poem with that question in mind “those people” I see searching for drugs or selling their body for money are victims of one bad decision, which led to another etc… you know for me it comes down to (now you might not like this) seeking God on what to do if he/she crosses my path; Do I give that person some money? Do speak the word of God to that person? Or do I just keep walking or driving by? You know what; the only thing I know for sure is to be completely thankful to God because all it would have taken for my life to turn out like that is one wrong decision.
LikeLike