Even the heathens used to suck on their mamas titty..
There was a time the addicts cried for milk and that was enough..
Those babies grew with Love in their hearts and still the world beat them down..
People, beat them down.
I’ve watched everyone i’ve ever loved reach out for comfort. I’ve watched them all reach for a damn fix too.
But I don’t get mad.
You know why I don’t get mad?
Because the baby crying for a bottle still hides inside.
Because those babies grew into children, suffered at the hands of men claiming to be human and they’ve been gagging on trauma ever since.
But no one’s there to pat their backs.. Couldn’t soothe the colic, can’t help heave the vomit.
There is no support system.
Just little girls hiding behind big tits and long eyelashes, painting smiles onto their faces, as if foundation hides the streak of tears, we know it doesn’t.
Little boys, bruised, looking up at men that fathered them and then taught them everything love isn’t, through their fists.
Rape, carried behind their eyelids, beatings still living beneath their skin.
There was no fucking hero.
Just small people, reaching for a bottle, reaching for a titty that’s dried up, a fucking hand to hold that can’t be found because jesus, to touch them would be to risk the plague.
And you walk by.
I have watched these people crumble. I have watched them stomach grief, living with a bad taste on their tongue, struggling to spit the pain from their lungs and I watched them fight.
The shame in their chests, the weight on their shoulders, their broken hearts barely beating.
They were anything but weak.
And you think you’re better than them, because you carry your pain in your pockets and you can handle the heavy that weighed them down.
You did not live their path.
I guess I do get mad, when their bodies convulse, when they throw up as much as they choked down, when they laugh admist the agony of overdose..
But not with them.
With those of you that think you’re a fucking gift to the planet, but can’t be a gift to a brother.
The addicts don’t disgust me.
Rachel can be found on WordPress at Bruised But Not Broken and on Facebook