She used to write poems about slitting her wrists

About monsters that did but did not exist

About band aids and stained paper towels

About grubby toilet seats and empty bowels

And well, now

She regret the scars

Fishing line trails out of them

Transparent until noticed

Then tangled and messy

Catching on hot sweaters in the summer

On the eyes of friends

Of her grandparents

She found them to no longer be the uneven lines of art she loved

She'd stick to colored pens

but it doesn't change the fact
that all you can give to the world
is an awkward wave to a girl
who may be dying.

What the hell am I supposed to do I feel as if I'm ******* because this addiction thing has proved time and again that it always wins in the end and I can't stop there is no off switch so I will probably die of this which depresses me and I confess that makes me want a drink as the cycle continues until I lose the battle and my loved ones suffer I have considered suicide to get it over with and stifle the wake of misery I've yet to leave behind but cannot seem to find the courage and you may say that rehab is the way to get and stay sober yet I submit it is a bandaid on a severed artery this I know from experience and what is wrong seems to go down deep to the very essence of me where my belief in God lives in my soul but faith has not sustained my sobriety even feeding the fear at moments when the voices are severe in my mind always trying to belittle and break me down until I whittle away into nothingness please

we've lost touch these last few years, and i will never forgive myself
it seems so surreal that you're gone
why were you not wearing your seatbelt?
were you looking at your phone?
did someone run you off of the road?
why did something so bad happen to someone so great?
i have so many questions that will never be answered
one second you were here, and the next you were gone
you will forever be in our hearts
you always were a daddy's girl, now you're singing "Sweet Home Alabama" and having lemonade stands with him again
your preacher continued to repeat, "she's not in pain anymore" and "her darker days are over"
why didn't you tell me you were having a hard time?
you had your whole future planned out, why weren't you wearing your seat belt?
i will think about you every day from now until the day i join you