Black circles under her eyes,
Greater than the size of the earth,
Eyes bloodshot like the colour of the
Medication she pops into her mouth.
Powder is what you shall see
If you open the small pocket
In the front side of her bag,
Filled with meth and cocaine.
She hasn't slept for nine days,
For sleep is terrifying,
Haunting nightmares daunt
Her subconscious in slumber.
They think it's a bad day,
Maybe going through a bad breakup.
She scorns at how society
Spins everything into tales of love.
Rehab is what she needs,
Not the added stress of academics
And the virtue of displaying kindness,
When kindness is something she has never known.
-A girl who will sell herself for a milligram of meth.
YOU ARE READING
Asymmetrical
PoetryAfter all, we're all chipped from here and there, losing our symmetry in the process.
