It first started with a needle & a prick
13 yrs old and already tired of it
Half hearts & she, still, was never to quit

Behind each lie they tried to sell her
What they had wanted her to believe
Bought, were, when young & naive

Knew not to trust their sweetened words
Always to understandably conceive
They were never to have matched their deeds

Through her spirit; her scars dug deep
The temple she’d given, felt so incomplete
Bloodletting behind the feeling of utter defeat

Her heart, emotionally wrecked, soiled & stained
Speaking, not out loud, about her turbulent pain
They’d berate her intelligence; deeply in vain

Her secret she was solely to let go
An addiction it had seemed to grow
A place where she’d go & no one would know

Her blood, she drew to the paper
Absorbing each word that would spill
Dripping of her pain-filled soul with every drop

Never to fully stop………

DRIP
DRIP
DROP

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