To this day,
She can still feel the poison in her veins.
It may only be a ghost
But the reminiscence of her past still harbor the same violent sting
Constantly reminding her
Of when her life changed forever
And what she’s become.
To this day,
She hauls vivid memories wherever she goes.
Memories only allowed to appear
Because of one choice,
That wasn’t even her own.
“Don’t worry,” she was told.
“This will make everything better,” she heard.
Lie after lie, spat right in her face.
The harm they caused wasn’t intentional, she knew.
Trauma that manifested through a veiled attempt to heal.
But by ignoring her desperate pleads,
“Please don’t make me go,”
They were to blame for her suffering.
The girl knew she was a hopeless cause.
Even the most skilled doctors could not help her.
She was too far broken.
Only a few delicate threads held her together,
Stitching up the pain she endured for countless years.
The girl would have been happy to leave them undisturbed,
If she had known what misery lied ahead.
The hospital room may as well be a prison cell
And the doctors the executioners.
Fear was the first form of torture laid upon her.
The girl’s worst nightmare crept its way up from the abyss that was her mind.
This was the thing that would cure her?
An evil, crooked, nasty beast was her savior?
And she had to somehow trust it with her life?
The pungent smell of the first swipe of alcohol across her skin
Followed by the guileful ***** of a needle.
A plastic tube nestled in her arm
Would be the girl’s only companion for the next few days.
It too, promised her relief,
But only offered agony.
Then came the venom.
Empty promises fed throughout her body.
Miracle cures for all her ailments.
But no matter how the doctors dressed them up,
She could feel their truth.
Poison filled the girl’s delicate body,
And she could not escape their wrath.
Excruciating pain, radiating all throughout her body.
Her head was dizzy,
Vision blurred,
Muscles weak,
Lungs constricted,
Stomach lurching,
Throat burning,
She could not have imagined something worse.
Over and over again,
More and more drugs were pumped through her IV.
She almost forgot about the pain they were trying to treat.
A battle was waging through her veins.
Eventually, one of these chemicals would cure her,
Right?
Days felt like years.
An eternity spent inside of the hospital.
Till the young girl could fight no longer.
She wanted to scream until her throat burst.
It wasn’t fair.
She was so young,
Too young to be tortured against her will.
She spat lies right back at the doctors.
“I feel better” was written on a white flag.
But the war was not over.
No, scars were not only etched into her body,
But her entire world had suffered the consequences of battle.
And she could only watch as it crumbled away.
The pain left her debilitated
Unable to function.
For the first time in her short life,
Her perfection slipped away.
She was forced to abandon activities she once loved,
Neglecting friends that counted on her.
The eyes of her peers were filled with disgust,
They only saw her as sick.
Confined to her bed for most days
The girl was utterly alone
With only her pain as her only friend.
When asked how she’s doing,
She couldn’t help but utter,
“Fine.”
It was easier than describing what she’d been through,
Impossible for others to understand.
She was completely alone.
Her suffering was disregarded,
Everyone was going through something worse it seemed.
She knew they expected her to be strong enough
To fight the battle in solitude.
Then came the anger.
A vicious spirit clawing at her sanity.
It almost felt like a dream.
This situation was inequitable,
What had she done to deserve such suffering?
She had spent her entire life helping others,
Offering her wisdom
While tending to her own ailments.
Now, suggestions were being forced down her throat.
Try this, try that.
As if they knew what was best for her.
How dare they.
The girl felt her life crumble away,
Like sand falling right through her fingertips.
Her heart ached of desperation.
She wore a fake smile most days,
And did her best to keep up with life,
Hoping for anything that might rescue her from pain.
Even if it meant death.
And to this day, she can still feel the poison in her veins.
She knows that the sting may never dissipate.
A vile reminder of pain she was forced to endure.
Leaving invisible battle scars,
And a prayer that one day,
She might be free.
this was my first endeavor into the world of poetry -- a description of the most vivid memory of my young life.
