When dreams don’t work

What was once the future
looking up at me from eyes
sunk deep on a street
we’ll call obscurity
and cries
heard from people we never see
has become a distant memory.

another thing I never see
are the livid scars
that run inside of me
a reminder of a future that
I could be
they hurt but they’re just
a memory.

Where was God
I wonder when and
if he saw me fall
why then
did he not reach out to save me
from those things that would
enslave me?

If I’d been capable
instead of being
I would have seen the
light come on like writing on
the walls now gone
but some things are
best left be.

I won’t evangelise
or tell you taking drugs
costs lives,
takes money and your time
to leave you with that line
upon your gravestone,
‘could have done better’

© 2018, John Smallshaw.