The Cost

9 Apr 2019

I don't care anymore. It doesn't hurt.

She rubs her eyes as if they ache.

I just laugh at them now.

She wipes the lie from lips gone dry.

Snitch. Sneak. Snake.

The counsellor waits, creates

A space

To speak

The words, forced by torture;

Events told by heated irons

And names drawn out by the rack.

Snitch. Snitch: we'll get you, bitch!

The rumours set about and fostered;

Lies like thick manure round hemlock;

Screamed abuse on the bus;


The cruelties following her home on her phone.

No Escape.

Sneak. Sneak: you're so weak!

No place free from

The stench of the rotting

Corpse of friendship.

Snitch. Sneak. Snake.

I saw what they did to the others;

I never thought they'd do it to me.

The counsellor waits, creates the space.

It's been months now.

I tried to kill myself last week.

Snake. Snake: we'll make you break!

But now, now I must tell.

They've started on my sister now.


A Moodscope member

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