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Apr 2016
Sitting here in Tompkins, it all comes rushing back
The empty stares and bloodshot eyes,
Shooting dope and smoking crack.
Tiger is on the corner shouting "it's the first day of spring!"
Everything is gone to me, all my belongings in the pawn shop, sold.
It doesn't matter what season it is, my heart is always cold.
They kick me out of the basement and now I have no place to sleep.
So I rob a man, cop a few backs.
Get high in a public bathroom and weep.
My eyes are brimming with tears as I walk down down the street.
They're silently screaming help me to every person I meet.
But I cannot let the world see me cry, they cannot know my tears. The world is a big bad place and it cannot know my fears.
I'm waking up next to the East River, I'm only 19 years old.
How did I get this way, what happened? I was always a good girl and did as I was told.
Mommy, where are you?
Mommy can I please come back?
My father has left me and you will too
I'm sorry.. I'm sorry. But this is what enfolds when your daughter does smack.
I'm in Denver now still miserable, I am so far away.
I swallow my pride and lie when they ask if I'm okay.
I'm staying in a crack house, my arm is infected, I'm scared.
"Help!" I tell them. "Please take me somewhere safe."
They roll their eyes and laugh, they say there's no such place.
I overdose, my heartbeat stops for two minutes. Then I snap back to life.
"******* it!" I yell "why didn't I just *******  die?"
I try again and fail twice.
My time is running out, I can't take this **** anymore. But when it comes to that needle.. For her I'm a ******* *****.
My arm though.. My ******* arm. It's getting worse. Five times is size, filled with ****, it's so ******* sore.
I take a breath. It's early morning. I grab my things and run for the street. I'm sorry to my friends.. But my promises I can't keep.

A thousand more miles away now, my arm is still throbbing, lying in a hospital bed. Hooked up to a million machines, my doctor saying he's surprised I'm not dead.

This is what I think about, just so you're aware.
This is what I think about, alone in Tompkins Square.
Tara J Williams
Written by
Tara J Williams  Miami
(Miami)   
486
     Brent Fisher, Karmen and Alexander Coy
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