A Fractured Intervention For “just methin’ around” (cracked pipe dreams) by Debra Webb Roberts

I am not a silent poet

We face your needling need
like sticking points ~ with pain,
poking holes in dreams spun
like silk for a young girl
before the sex and the pipe
and syringe plunged you
headlong to destruction

overcoming any sense you may have had
and leaving only nightmares

father, mother, small steps know dysfunction and the pain
losing precious lots and little bits of self
drown themselves in bottles, clouds of smoke
choke memories of youthful bliss
and innocence now lost for many years

there are tears we weep in private, praying
even as predators lurk to suck you in
shrug at the mug, blood-shot and posted one more time

~ will this mean bars and bars
of unsung months holed up in gray and cold,
habitation keeping you safe, and sane
and hopefully
clean ?

you call we won’t pick up
answers are yours to ponder
amidst the wreckage and the…

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