She was fifteen.

So smart, so pretty,

Witty,

And full of spunk.

Her eyes gleamed,

Her smile screamed,

Her body so healthy and light.

But she found the pipe.

Addiction slowly crept upon her still infant soul.

Her body begged,

She wanted more,

Her fingers reached for the bowl.

She was turning inward now.

Her mind, once golden,

was now fully bronze.

Her eyes got dark,

And her choices weren’t smart,

All she wanted was the bong.

“I know where you can get some more of that”

That phrase was so common now.

She sold herself cheap,

Working the streets,

A harlot to the ones she had known.

Those men didn’t care.

They wanted one thing.

Just think of all the money it would bring!

She cleaned up nice.

Considering the nights

That she spent in a stranger’s bed.

Her mom never knew,

What her good daughter would do;

Allow her body to be so used.

She said that pipe was worth it.

Or maybe that’s what she thought.

Nothing made sense to her anymore.

Everything was such a bore.

Her grades were dropping,

Her attendance was poor,

She’d be lucky to see that school door.

Slowly her options had all run out.

She said wouldn’t do this anymore.

But the doctors couldn’t help.

Her veins all blew out.

Those needles had all left sores.

Her bruises were dark,

Her promise was stark,

Her body could do no more.

But those men kept coming.

And her veins kept numbing.

Oh! These teenage years galore.

By Kourtney B. (2012)