A gentle wave of conscience laps against my moral sense of right.
My dark and guilty past has me searching through the night.
They see me as a quick and easy way to fuel their drug addiction.
I'm only seen as prey, not the second coming or the holy crucifixion.
Any helping hand will only be rejected with feelings of disdain.
I only want to help relieve them from their drug inducing pain.
I know this dark and painful world from a past I called my life.
Stabbing deep into my soul like a jagged burning knife.
I was lucky to escape and leave that painful world behind.
Even though I’m better, our worlds are still entwined.
If I only help a single person I will count this as a win.
It’s my way of paying back for all my evil and my sin.
Comments about this poem (Helping Hand by Rob Hyden )
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