These individuals, often abandoned and forgotten, navigate the streets with vacant eyes, their spirits broken by an indifferent society. The situation is dire, with some refusing help out of despair, while others are simply unaware of where to turn. The city is not to blame for this crisis; rather, it is the pervasive decay of lives that were once innocent and full of potential.
As the affluent turn a blind eye, hidden in their towers of wealth, they perpetuate the shame of a democracy that fails its most vulnerable citizens. The stark contrast between the rich and the suffering highlights a society rich in wealth but poor in compassion. The cries of those in need are ignored, and their suffering becomes an indictment of civilization's true values.
The idea of forcibly placing these individuals in asylums may seem harsh, but it reflects a desperate desire to offer some form of care and stability, even if against their will. The solution lies in a compassionate approach, where society acknowledges the humanity of those lost in addiction and extends a helping hand.
Kensington Avenue serves as a reminder of the need for empathy and action. By understanding and addressing the root causes of this crisis, we can restore hope and dignity to those who have been cast aside, turning shadows of despair into stories of redemption.
In streets of Philadelphia, shadows creep, Kensington Ave, where lost souls weep. Broken dreams and shattered lives, Where the dark of addiction thrives.
The alleys whisper tales of woe, Of those forgotten, left to go. Drugs control, their lives consumed, In a haze, their hopes entombed.
Mental hospitals, doors now shut, Rehabilitation centers, closed and cut. Once places of healing, now no more, Leaving broken spirits, ever sore.
They wander streets with vacant eyes, Underneath the indifferent skies. Thrown away, with nowhere to turn, In the cold, their spirits burn.
It’s not so hard to give up, you see, When every step is misery. Help is needed, that much is true, For the souls whose days are cruelly blue.
Yet some refuse, lost in despair, While others, they just don’t know where To find the help, to seek the light, In their unending, hopeless night.
“What’s wrong with this city?” some will say, “It’s not the city, but the decay Of lives once pure, now led astray, In darkness deep, they lose their way.”
Rich people pass with eyes turned blind, To suffering of a different kind. In their towers, they shame the poor, While ignoring cries outside their door.
They speak of civilization grand, Yet ill people die across this land. Selfish hearts in democracy’s name, Ignore the weak, fueling the shame.
Once innocent, pure as the dawn, Now their light has long since gone. Choices made or fate unkind, Left them wandering, lost in mind.
Pick them up, lock them away, In asylums, where they might stay. Against their will, perhaps it’s true, Yet maybe there, they’ll find something new.
Rich with wealth, yet poor in heart, Society tears itself apart. Civilization, where is your pride? When so many suffer, cast aside.
Kensington Ave, where shadows loom, In each corner, lives in gloom. The drug’s cruel grip, so firm, so tight, Turns day to darkest, endless night.
It’s hard to watch, it makes one sick, To see lives crumble, stone by brick. Yet there’s a need for understanding, A cry for help, a plea, demanding.
They were once like you and me, With dreams as vast as the open sea. Now lost in a world, so harsh and cold, Their stories of sorrow, forever told.
In streets of Philadelphia, shadows lie, Kensington Ave, where lost souls cry. We must remember, lend a hand, To those forgotten in this land.
For in their eyes, a flicker remains, A spark of hope amidst the chains. With compassion, love, and care, We can help them rise from despair.
