her dignity, her self-respect
all she thinks about is
the "demon" she'll do anything
to get
she awoke today
from a temporary drug induced coma
there was a man lying next
to her
she knew what she had
done, but she didn't care
it was past that point now
just another taker. another taker
like her father when she was 11
she still needs money today,
she needs it every day to
feed her habit
the first time she stuck a needle in her arm it hurt a little,
but the slight prick soon went
away. then she felt good all over
and the pain was gone for; awhile
she didn't feel her husbands
fists that day
but now the happy feeling
is gone and there's just the
urge left, the ugly, horrid urge
the "demon" that eats away at
her soul. it drives her into
this life, if you call it a life.
it's sad, she knows it's sad
if she only had someone to love
her, not to take from her, for once.
but she knows that's a dream.
she tries not to think about
what she has to do today. she's
done it so many times before. it almost
feels normal by now, like it's how
everybody lives.
she longs for the "demon" to
enter her.
she longs not to feel the pain.