The Benevolent Being in Recovery

The Benevolent being, wise but unseeing,
the pain of being left alone.
The simple mind, fragile but kind,
Is easily let to the wrong.
Original sin, borne from within,
A fault that we cannot own.
Caring for others, leaves us without covers,
When the weather turns ugly and cold.
The fucked-up remains, and a creation unpraised,
Are littered with stories untold.
Forever the victim, a condition, a stigma,
Why do we always get under sold?
A life without purpose, the devil that’s cursed us,
Won’t allow our plans to unfold.