Kwaicore Greeted Her Like an Old Friend.

She has known pain in abundance,
haunted thoughts as a child.
The near-constant presence of evil,
ever since she had felt the touch of awful naked men.
Battles addiction and depression,
and suicidal thoughts.
Her arms remember razor blades.
Fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds.

She feels trapped.
Two sets of "friends" with opposing ideas.
Everyone sleeps.
The sun rises.
She drinks long from a bottle of liquor,
takes a blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom.
She cuts herself.
Using the blade to carve
"Useless" large across her right forearm.

Kwaicore speaks a language only feelings understand. A language doctors and psychologists were never taught, sometimes it's what we need to hear when no one else will listen. It might not be a lot, but it's something for someone who feels like nothing.

Kwaicore: The cheapest Antidepressant yet.