Yesterday. Oh man.
Words meant something.
I heard heroin,
I heard I’m here for you.
He didn’t know her,
But paid for her food
As she wrestled with
Demons.
Sat and offered something…
Hope? Maybe.
Comfort? Surely.
All I could offer
Were tears,
And those I cried
At home.
Peace, people.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Soul In Visual Form
Ramblings
Just another WordPress site
Killer Fiction
Fun blogs about the wonderful world of books and learning!
Music and Storytelling
Besteesydian
A bit of this...A bit of that...bit of everything...come on in...
Life in a flash - a weekly writing blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
So caring
LikeLiked by 1 person
He isn’t much more than a boy and yet knew how to speak to this woman.
LikeLike
Well.. you offered this too my friend. Awareness.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m worthless in some situations. Completely worthless. But maybe bearing witness does some good.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Of course it does. Abso. Don’t think for a moment that it doesn’t. Look here right now, you are discouraged from using cash so the homeless and folks with addictions have been hammered. Oh yeah there were hotel rooms offered but come on. That is not how people in these straits live. The Mr and I ‘know ‘ a lot of these folks cos they have regular pitches and the most we’ve been able to do for the past two years is buy them that coffee, and something to eat. So many don’t see them at all, so actually don’t think you’ve done nothing. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Disablities & Mental Health Issues.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ugh, sad. And that picture… gives me chills.
LikeLike