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