You scream about addicts

How they're ruining their futures

Shitting on their hopes and dreams

Taking every hard thing they've worked for

And tossing it into the trash

Without a second-thought, another look

Labeled as the shoulda, coulda, would ofs of society.

You shake them off.

Saying they know what their doing is killing them

They know they were going to be addicted

They were warned

 

But you helped.

If only you knew…

 

The girl who shots lines has to sell her soul every night to strangers

Just to eat in the morning.

She has no home, no hope. Alone.

That boy who can't control his alcohol has been penetrated and violated by his own father.

He can’t escape the torment of a life he couldn’t choose.

That boy who's arm is dotted with holes has never had anyone in his life tell him

I love you. Good job. I’m proud of you.

He’s moved between families, cities, and identities.

Stability is far from the life he’s living.

That girl who dips has battled with depression, rejection, and self-mutilation

Because she's never been good enough, perfect enough, or pretty enough.

That girl who smokes her days away cannot find any medicine to numb the pain of her anxiety.

She spends her nights worrying that her past will come back to finish her off like he promised he would.

 

And no one cares to ask or listen about the tears they cry

the struggles they have

the tomorrows they can’t seem to find

 

These low-lives 

They live next to you, with you and you call them friend

but do you even know them? how they've come to be?

do you know their story? have you ever thought to ask?

 

You judge their habits and tell them it's easy to quit

But, could walk a day in their shoes and survive.