Poem by an Unknown Drug Addicted Street Lady

Poem by an Unknown Drug Addicted Street Lady 2

Why is this young girl crying?

This is a poem by an unknown [to you] drug addicted street lady.  She gave it to me many years ago.  It is so powerful that I made it the preface to my book, Breaking the Code.

I shed tears like rain every time I read it.  But my tears don’t count.  They are only tears of empathy, whereas these women’s tears are tears of pain.  Therefore, they are real and they have meaning.

This poem is one woman’s story, but it is also many women’s story

street lady
Prostitute Soliciting at car

Although the poem was written by one street lady it’s a visceral and sad reminder of the pain that some eighty-five+ percent of these ladies suffered in their youth.  It is that pain which imprisons their hearts and minds and drives them to drugs in order to mask their pain, and then to prostitution to support their drug habits.

I can’t stop reading it

It haunts me.  Although I have read it a hundred times and should know it by rote.  But I don’t.  That’s because my mind will not allow me to memorize it. Instead, I find myself constantly forced to re-read it so as to not forget why my heart goes out to everyone of these ladies, and why your heart should also.

Read, listen and understand; don’t just hear

As you read, please notice the reference to “a seed planted long ago“.  Then realize what this hurting soul is telling us.

Next, study the gut wrenching description of her torment and anguish.  Then you will understand where child abuse, probably sexual in this particular instance, leads.  This poem teaches you the impact that abuse has on our children and on the generations that follow each of them.

The Monster Deep Inside

If all the world could only see
all the problems that seem to gather
and the tears that fall but don’t really matter,
the creature that eats up all of me,
the monster that is so deep inside,
the one I deeply want to hide.
It is a seed that was planted long ago,
a part of me I don’t want to show,
It rips all of my life apart.
It makes me look like I have no heart.
It makes me look like something I’m not.
It shows what I have not been taught.
It twists and turns, hurts and burns.
The monster shows I have no concerns.

I want every street lady to know two things.  One, it was not your fault.  Two, it is not your shame

No!  It is somebody else’s fault and somebody else’s shame.  You can run from it the rest of your life or you can do the really hard thing and deal with it.  I beg you to deal it.

When a child is defiled, a chain reaction is created in that family that lasts generations.  If you are a victim, you need to go to the police.  Even if it was decades ago, you need to tell your story.

How can any Canadian who has a heart read this poem and then not want to get involved in putting an end to abuse?  The courts need to protect our women and we need your voice reporting abuse

My voice is limited; yours is limitless

Do you agree or disagree?  Participate in the discussion at the bottom of the page and share this article on social media with one of the links below.  Make yourself heard!

About Hal 164 Articles
Ex-golf inventor, Ex-stockbroker, author, blogger, social activist, drug counselor, public speaker

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