When i came to the lodge there were two ways to go,
carry on drinking and go with the flow,
or find myself, at last, from beneath all the masks,
and release my true self, too late, but at last.
I've met people of all sorts, classes and races,
sad, mad or angry etched on their faces,
people who have or have not kicked the smack,
users of all sorts, coke, pills and crack,
alco's' and families with poor little kids,
living in squalor with locks on the fridge.
They aint all the nicest, but a few of them are,
scattering stereotypes wide and far,
and wondering just how they fell this far.
I've learnt from them all in different ways,
sharing our time, counting the days.
Nomad Goggs
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/counting-the-days/
