I know.

Sometimes for weeks she doesn't sleep, doesn't eat. I don't wonder what she is on, I know.

I come home, and she's alone, puking, sweating, swearing, and pissing the bed. I don't wonder who to call, I know. 

When I wake up and she's gone, I don't wonder whether she left a note, I know. 

The nights she lays in bed and prays, I don't wonder if she is dying, I know.

The marks on her upper arm, I don't wonder what they are from, I know.

I know what she's doing and it's just what she's always done. I know what I thought, I thought she would be done going down this road. Now, I was wrong, I know.