The pain that hides within

So there's a topic that's been on my mind for quite some time now; drug abuse involving children. It's something almost every family can relate to in some ways. Whether it's just a cigarette your little brother picks up when he's four or a used needle your cousin picks up on the side of the sink. Either way, we can all relate to this dangerous and scary epidemic. I remember a time when my own family members were using drugs. My aunt and uncle, would do meth in the bathroom and lock my baby cousins out. Rilee was four, Josephine was three, and Lannon was barely a year. It was heartbreaking watching Josephine cry when her mom had been in jail on her birthday. The thing that hurt me the most was watching how much they knew about drugs at such a young age, I mean no four year old should mention words like pipe, dust, or drug. It made my heart break. So if you know of a friend, family member, or someone you barely know who's using drugs, find them help; don't let the children suffer.

This poem is a tad graphic

Piercing needles inside the bruising skin on my arm,
Hurting inside, trying to get better but all I do is harm,
Inhaling the scent of cold, chilling, death,
Lying here on the couch boiling up this meth.

Ignoring the shrilling screams coming from Lannon's room,
I want to help him but I wont get up, falling into doom,
The kids want to play outside they're begging for some fun,
I scream and hit and carry on, until I'm alone without a one.

I feel my teeth rotting inside my brain with every puff,
Just when I think I've got my fix I haven't had enough,
Cracking lips turning purple, bleeding down my chin,
This deadly fight called meth I cannot seem to win.

Pushing family and friends so dear, so very far away,
I want to give them a call, but I wont get up for days,
Leaving the kids with no dinner, they cry until there sick,
Jittery shaking breaking into a sweat, I need to get out quick.

I find anyone selling crack along the lonesome street,
So cold and so weak I wont even pick up my feet,
I finally find some one with the right sort of mix,
Then I go home and cook it up, a bowl of my finest fix.

I load up some syringes with my magic potion,
Staring at the needle I feel no sort of emotion,
I leave the used needles on the edge of the sink,
Josie grabs one and throws it within a blink.

Screaming and crying she runs, with a sore on her arm,
Trying to fix this wound, I scream but I don't harm,
Rilee begins to cry, at the sight of her little sister,
She tries to run up to hug her and kiss her.

I scream in frustration at the sight of my crying kids,
Then breaking into a cry myself thinking of what I did,
I almost let it happen, let her die from this disease,
Breaking down into sobs I fall onto my knees.

I hold them close into my chest not ever letting them go,
Feeling sicker then a dog I've hit my all time low,
I call the help line for the treatment plan for the day,
Not waiting anymore for the white truck to take me away.