All Nonfiction
- Bullying
 - Books
 - Academic
 - Author Interviews
 - Celebrity interviews
 - College Articles
 - College Essays
 - Educator of the Year
 - Heroes
 - Interviews
 - Memoir
 - Personal Experience
 - Sports
 - Travel & Culture
 All Opinions
- Bullying
 - Current Events / Politics
 - Discrimination
 - Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
 - Entertainment / Celebrities
 - Environment
 - Love / Relationships
 - Movies / Music / TV
 - Pop Culture / Trends
 - School / College
 - Social Issues / Civics
 - Spirituality / Religion
 - Sports / Hobbies
 All Hot Topics
- Bullying
 - Community Service
 - Environment
 - Health
 - Letters to the Editor
 - Pride & Prejudice
 - What Matters
 - Back
 
Summer Guide
- Program Links
 - Program Reviews
 - Back
 
College Guide
- College Links
 - College Reviews
 - College Essays
 - College Articles
 - Back
 
Her addiction
I see her with a careful eye
 A fake smile she wears, her clothes no rips or tears
 Eyes damp with sorrow, but nobody sees the pain she is hiding well
 Until her skin begins to swell
 Her bumps and bruises show
 Why is she healing so slow
 She tries to hide them by covering herself up
 as she watches her father drink until he reaches the end of the cup
 One of his hand is all it takes when he reaches and slaps her across the face
 She falls to the ground and nobody makes a sound
 His back he turns and walks away, and her addiction began that day
 Hard to stop but easy to begin as she puts the razor blade against her skin
 The cut is deep but she breaths a sigh of relief
 Blood trickles down her skin as she continues to do it again and again
 The blade becomes her new best friend and long sleeves are her new trend
 But she doesn't realize her addiction needs to end before she finds herself dead
 Her father is drunk once more, the next morning she wakes up sore and bruised
 Now a knife she begins to use
 Cuts run up and down her arm at every wakening alarm
 Bloodstained clothes covers the paths she chose
 Yet another time is all it took, just one more hit and she was shook
 No escape for me now but only one she thought as she ran and got her knife
 Ready to take her life
 Later she was pronounced dead sprawled out on her bed
 The reason she held in her hand, a butcher knife with blood even on the band
 Seeing her was a sorry sight
 Looking at her throat and wrists that she sliced
 On her one very last night

Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 1 comment.
90 articles 0 photos 213 comments