A figure of a man lurks in a door way
On a dimly lighted street,
The once busy shops around him
Give off no light or heat.

One by one they had all closed down
Put the shutters up for good,
There were no customers willing to shop,
And no reason why they should.

It was once a thriving busy street
Full of people doing their things,
Friends meeting up having a drink
Maybe shopping for diamonds or rings!

The paving stones are covered in weeds
Forcing their way up through the stones,
And in the gutter the rotting remains
Of a half eaten bread roll and chick bones.

Through a broken window above one of the shops
Loud music drifts to the ground,
The curtain is a blanket, dirty and torn
and it’s swaying to the beat of the sound.

There were seven or eight youngsters in that room
All lying around on the floor,
With popping pills and empty lager cans
used sharps and syringes galore.

In the far corner of that evil smelling room
A young girl was laid out on her side,
A needle was sticking out from her arm.
Her condition was to obvious to hide.

It was her first time-just for kicks
To be known as one of the crowd,
Her innocence caused her to overdose,
Now all she’ll get is a shroud.

Take heed all young people Who think it is “cool”
To be trendy and copy your peer’s
Go down “hell road” and one day you’ll find,
They’ll be crying for you with your tears.