The death & destruction, the pills & the pain,
They say when you leave, you can never go home again.
But this place isn't home, not any longer,
The good times have faded, the hurt stings a bit stronger.
What used to be safe, familiar and dear,
Is only a faint whisper being lost in my ear.
To walk these same streets as my Grampa has done,
I wonder, with anger, Am I the only one...
Who sees the corruption, the waste & the drugs,
Who sees these young people acting like thugs.
To the dealer who sits at the park where my kids used to play:
Have you spoke to my daughter? Have you helped her die today?
What lives have you touched, have you tainted with sh*t?
Whose kid did you hook when you sold that last hit?
Do you like the reflection when you look in the river?
Or do the dark ripples you make, edged with death, make you shiver?
Whose souls have you withered? Whose hearts did you break?
Will you be screaming for yours with the last breath you take?

by: kimberly chasteen (my mother)