Junkie Girl Poem by Kristina Jones

She’s frightened now.

She’s snapped all her needles and sits all alone
Rocking and sweating, her eyes fixed on the phone
A decision to make; which person to call?
Knowing - either way - this could be the end of it all.

Should she ring her mum or dad?
And go back to the life that she once had?
Be drawn back into the family’s loving embrace
Standing at their door with her battered case
Maybe go back to school or get a job
Quit sleeping in squats and going on the rob.

Or
She could call her dealer.

He’d be here within five minutes with the gear
A quick fix and the drugs would then commandeer
Her mind and take all these bad feelings away
And, for a few hours at least, it’ll all be okay.
But then the cycle will start over again
And the demons will once more creep into her brain
Her nerves will jangle and her skin will crawl
And there’ll be no cushion to soften her fall
From the oblivion of being high and numbing the pain
Yet she craves the sting of the needle entering her vein
She needs the escape from her own thoughts and fears
A way to bury the relentless tears
To eradicate the memories and stifle the screams
To forget that she once had hopes and dreams.

Is it worth it?

She believes so.

She picks up the phone.