Helping Hand

A poem about reaching out a helping hand

A gentle wave of conscience laps against my moral sense of right.
My dark and guilty past has me searching through the night.
They see me as a quick and easy way to fuel their drug addiction.
I am only seen as prey, not the second coming or the holy crucifixion.
Rejecting any helping hand with the senseless feelings of disdain.
I only want to help relieve them from their drug inducing pain.
I know this dark and painful world from a past I called my life.
Stabbing deep into my soul like a jagged burning knife.
I’m lucky to escape and leave that painful world behind.
Even though I’m better, our worlds are still entwined.
If I only help a single person I can count this as a win.
It’s my way of paying back for all my evil and my sin.

Rob Hyden *in plain sight*

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