There are people who have sadness
deep inside their bones,
swimming through their veins,
coursing through their lungs.

Addicted like a dead-beat to alcohol,
like a ***** to crack,
addicted to waking up each morning
and feeling the stab of the knife being driven into their chest
because they deserve it;
addicted to the sadness.

Despite their lips cracking into a pathetic smile
there is sadness in their irises, on their pupils,
screaming to be noticed
but not pointed out.

There are people who have sadness
written in their notebooks,
on the inside of their wrists,
their thighs,
their eyes,
and they are completely content
letting it live there.