Brianna Taylor

Get Right.

As fast as my heart moves forward, my mind crawls back. The life of an addict...it’s difficult to ‘stay on track.’ The scars on my arms match the depths of my soul. Some say I’m shallow, but I call it BOLD. My hands that once worked-they can’t cling... they can’t hold. Scars so deep can’t be touched, cause they’re sensitive as fuck. Don’t care to see truth cause like you, I stay burning. My mind is a wheel wind, I mean it, that it keeps turning. As hard as we work, to get the ‘fix’ to survive, we cling to anything that brings us a sense of life. Death around the corner; well known to us in the dark and the light. We know that we’re wrong, while we’re feeling so ‘right.’ We live for one goal. At the depths of our souls...eternal bliss, I hope Mom and Father, you’ll be proud of all of this. The stones I’ve been thrown. The pain in the shame. The hopes that someday you’ll actually know my name. I don’t want to blame you, but do you act the same? Why’d you come around only when you thought I had fame?