An Addiction No Patch,Pill,or Syrup Can Cure

July 25, 2008
By marina rodriguez, Clarksville, TN

The thought that can't be avoided.
You can't escape.
The blade held so dear.
You can't escape.
The blood that stains.
You can't escape.
The wristbands that hide the scars.
You can't escape.
The smile that covers the tears.
You can't escape.
The thought that haunts my mind.
The blade that's in my hand.
The blood that stains my wrists.
The wristbands i always wear.
The tears i force away.
Help me escape.

The author's comments:
this i guess was kind of my call for help.
i was going throgh a really hard time where i was always depressed and crying and it got to the point where i started thinking about suicide and cutting my wrists and legs. and when it got to the point where i started carving words and names into my legs and arms that was the turning point.that's when i realized i needed help.and i neeeded it fast.

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This article has 3 comments.


Rain-Bow said...
on Dec. 3 2009 at 5:26 pm
i too have gone through this...i got help...

annie W. said...
on Sep. 17 2008 at 9:29 pm
i really liked the poem, although i've never delt with it myself. and nijastarrr? that's sounds kinda mean.......kind of like your pushing them down for getting help, which is something that it's great they did.

Ninjastarrr said...
on Sep. 10 2008 at 12:30 am
Hmmm, interesting. I went through the same thing. Pretty low. I never cried for help, i dealt with it myself. But then again, some people can't stand back up once they hit rockbottom by themselves like i did.


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