She is tired.

Tired of everything.

She cries every day.

She is afraid.

So she wants to forget.

Forget her life and who she is.

So she turns.

11: 30 P.M.

Turns to drugs.

Drugs, drugs, and more drugs.

She crushes a bit, roll it up, and takes a hit.

Inhale, blow, Inhale, blow.

Her head feels fuzzy but she keeps inhaling and blowing.

And every time she thinks of your touch, adrenaline rush gives her that pump.

Red solo cups with unknown drinks and unknown mixes.  

The kiss on her lips, many kisses upon her lips.

You give her one each time she sips.

And every time she thinks of your touch, adrenaline rush gives her that pump.

Unconscious and black.

She lies on the floor.  

She’s on the brink of death.

5:00 A.M.

She is awake and thinks.

She can still feel the taste of death on her lips.

How long will it be till the next?

The next time when she won’t wake up at all.