the addict sleeps
his life away,
narcotic fog
keeps pain at bay.
dodging pain,
he knows no joy,
another soul
without employ.
such are those
who run from life.
the irony,
without the strife
there is no force
to make them strive,
no cause to even
be alive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I amire your perception, dear Barry.In a few verses you bring to light the real condition of the addicted =without a life deserving to live and fight for.
I worked with addicts and the mentally ill for many years.