I met a poet today—moved by her words I could tell by the title of her poem that she was scarred. Her poem was called “Bodies,” she intertwined her message around all of the bodies that she had to walk over because of drugs. Relating to her message my eyes began to water. If no one has ever lost a loved one from drug addiction the truth is it’s real and very hard to dodge. Hearing her pour out her poetic vibes, she gave me inspiration. I’d lost hope in the battle to stop the drug war, and like her, I’d saw body after body piling up. After finding out that she was struggling with the habit herself I’d come to the conclusion that physically I had to stay strong. When she stepped off of the stage I proceeded to greet her. She shook my hand and asked me what body was I tripping over. I smiled and told her about all of the people that I’d lost due to drugs. Sadly after purchasing her book, I later found out that she’d lost the battle also. Depression consumed her and the street life was just too much for her to handle. She died of an overdose. Seeing another body, I reflected on the very last day that we spoke. Here I was, saddened by her loss and still trying to battle with my own demons. Reading through her poems, I noticed that she left a message by where she signed her book. Her message was clear: “In this life, all I’ve ever had are my words, my only hope comes from a pen and a pad. Fall down, get up, and say no to drugs.”
It was clear that she’d never intended on losing the battle, that’s what hurt me the most. The only hope of winning the drug war was to say no to drugs, in a room filled with dead bodies from overdoses and drug dealers hustling, her message was clear.
Say no to drugs.
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