by Tina Feb 21, 2005
category :
Sadness, depression /
about depression
Memories sketched on her body of an addiction held close to her heart. The pain was just to much she needed a way to deal. The addiction grew until it was out of control nothing could fight the feeling and the need of this bittersweet temptation. Millions of cuts on her body like tattoos her feelings brought to life by the help of her knife. No one notices, but she doesn’t hide, this is just a cry, a longing for help, for attention. They pass her by, no glance at all towards the tortured soul and her heart is lost in oblivion. Her parents abandoned her when she was young, at their house she lives but they are never there. She suffers alone, with no one to hold her when she cries, she just wishes that everything could be all right. Save me she cries into the night onto her tear-stained pillow, and with her bloodstained wrist, help me she screams but no one answers. She sinks deeper and deeper into her depression, with many escapes that just lead to false hope. The ER nurses know her well, with her many attempts at suicide, but these white blurs just save her and send her home again to her suffering. They cannot send her away without the permission of her parents, those humans who pass out every night in her house, stoned and drunk. The pain continues, the blood always emerges from her once beautiful skin and her heart bruised and beaten of past memories. Why do they keep saving her, why do they want her to live, they don’t care, why should I! She screams and cries, trying to escape her worst enemy, herself. She stops eating, and turns skinnier then her once thin self, she continues her addiction, her knife her only friend, the only constant of her life. No one notices, she suffers alone, desperate for a way out she tries suicide one last time. She takes her parents so-called “candy†and traces her veins with knife until she blacks out. Someone must’ve found her, because she comes in and out of consciousness at the emergency room. “Such a young girl,†they whisper “only 14..†She closes her eyes and takes a jagged last breath and finally she lets go, everything disappears, because she has finally won, she has ended her suffering and nothing else matters now. |
hey, i love this poem! it's so deep, and i hope it's not true. keep up the writing hun! |