King Heroin is my shepherd. I shall always want.
He maketh me to lie down in the gutters.
He leadeth me beside the troubled waters.
He destroyeth my soul. He leadeth me in the path of wickedness for effort’s sake.
Yea, I shall walk through the valley of poverty and will fear all evil,
For thou, Heroin, art with me.
Thy needle and capsule try to comfort me.
Thou strippest my table of groceries in the presence of my family.
Thou robbest my head of reason. My cup of sorrow runneth over.
Surely Heroin addiction shall stalk me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the condemned forever.
This psalm was found on a card by a police officer in a phone booth. On the back of the card was this note:
“Truly this is my psalm. I am a young woman, 20 years of age and for the past year and a half I have been wandering down the nightmare of the junkie. I want to quit taking dope and I try, but I can’t. Jail didn’t cure me. Nor did hospitalization help me for long. The doctor told my family that it would have been better, and indeed kinder, if the person who had first gotten me hooked had blown my brains out. And I wish they had. My God, how I do wish it!”
No comments:
Post a Comment