Withdrawal Poem by Roneece Pieters

Shivers chase each other through out my body. I'm sitting on a new York city three train and as the shivers slowly descend, I try not to look at the other passengers on the train because my dilated pupils carry the evidence needed to confirm their assumptions.

My body is experiencing winter in the summer.

It's the consequence of having an addiction of the strongest forms.

I'm addicted to pain of all shapes and sizes.

I'm addicted to the black and blue bruises that pour out of my veins and jump my body in dark alleys at night, early in the morning, midday, and any other time I'm available to get it.

I am addicted…

To the looks of disapproval because they've already summed up I'll be nothing since I came from nothing and this little mind of mine don't know nothing because the sun in my world don't shine.

I'm addicted to harsh words of hatred, I like the feel of it when it pierces my mental psyche like a dagger to the heart.

I tie my arm up, tap the skin in the center as my fist balls up automatically and I abuse the needle forcing him to follow my demands.

It's not enough pain knowing that I have no family.

It's not enough pain knowing that friends are a figment of my imagination.

It's Not Enough.

I'm invited to another dimension where the pain starts at the tips of my fingers and courses its way through every artery.

I'm unstoppable, I've diminished my own supply and all of the suppliers of pain who linger in my halls, the corner of my block, at the welfare line, at the halfway house, the man on the other side of my bed where I used to have a home (I used to call him husband) , even the pain supply in my thoughts are diminished.

So here I am rocking back and forth, to and fro, on the train experiencing withdrawal from pain….

Everyone is waiting for me to get off the train and

With turned up noses and quick proverbial words of disgust, no one even realizes

I've been the angel of Brooklyn absorbing everyone's pain…

because I'd rather suffer, yes

I'd rather suffer,

Matter fact, I am the one to suffer

No, I was the one who suffered rather than to see a child abused by her own father.

I'd endure the loneliness if it means that little boy with beat-up sneakers, oversized clothes, and hair that never knew a brush can finally get a friend.

I can handle a little pain when everyday someone is waking up hoping they had a gun to end their life.

That's why I loved my addiction to pain but it's too much for me now.

Sleep used to be a vacation from my addiction to pain but I realized far too late

That there is always someone in pain so I allowed slumber to elude me

Not wanting 33 year old Melissa Johnson who was happily married to feel the pain when her attacker stabbed her 6 times in the chest

Not wanting 9 year old Jonathan Cruise to feel the after effects of his chemotherapy and radiation sessions

Or 16 year old Lolita Haze to feel the punches of her foster mother.

The evening rush hour on the three train of these ignorant fools who believe their nine to five is tough when I eradicated the emotional pain of Tyrell's family who is serving nine to life for a crime he didn't commit.

So if you want me to admit who I am, I will shout it through the complex city subway line with pride.

I am a pain addict,

I am the angel of pain,

I am the angel of Brooklyn

No matter how many stares I get, I'll depart from my position justified with my head held high.

I'll pass the torch to the next courageous angel with a guide on how to get through the pain.

And when they're ready to step down from their position, I'll help them through the withdrawal too.

But as for now, I'm going to get myself through it.

After all is said and done this withdrawal only means…

I'm having a revolution in my mind so my body is preparing for battle.