We all die at 15
didn't you know.

i felt that hole
you only pulled it open
with blank stares
and crooked smiles
as you pointed at my impurity
and somewhat lack of style
though i swore i looked better
then all of you.

it only took an hour in my life
or so it seemed
until i gave into subtle touches
wandering fingers
and that Fred Ester effect
that all the girls wanted but me
or so it seemed.

i lived in that hole
cutting out the girls that laughed
the boys that didn't understand
even my parents that pushed me
a little to hard
until i would cry in front of them
and not talk
never talk
until they would hold me
and everything would be alright
if only it would be alright.

We all wanted to die at 15
didn't you understand.

i pushed everyone away
the people that had made me this way
i hated them, life
the people who sought to fix me
couldn't understand my pain
and fear of the light
being normal and actually standing out.

god, what's it's like to fear being
normal.

maybe my blood made me stronger
i always felt that way after seeing it
my own dagger the release
and after seeing a bloody movie
and smiling at the gruesome
that made my stomach churn from the inside.

i was trying to be perfect for you
but i forgot who it was
who you were,
who am i.

i wrote and cut and did what i call
my lack of living
for i always thought of death
and imagined how i would do it
and sometimes would try
if i got bored or desperate enough.

i was beyond help
that stage i call my
dried up and useless stage
i'm still there,
god, am i still there.

We forgot to ask for help, not like
you'd listen anyways.

sex is a way of life
wake up to the fucking next door
fall asleep to television sex for all to see
at least i rejected you
i regret it now though.

i'm not perfect
yet.

i met people
they just hurt me now
all but my sister
and myself,
i think we are strong because of that.

i don't have a sister
but my blood is hers
and she is closer to me then the dead one
i never knew her anyways
but i still wanna see her grave.

i gave up religion
sometimes i wore that cross
to remind me of what i believed
trying to please those that were close to me
-my parents who never go to church
or read the bible
and still expect me to believe in this time
where i don't even know
what tomorrow will bring
or who i am.

after awhile
i wore the cross
(not anymore)
to spite those that knew
and pretend to parents
i was still perfect
while still dying on the inside.

just an open and shut case
a readable dead book
whose pages have been handled and torn
many pages missing
now paper airplanes or origami cranes
as shoved to the back of the bookcase
we forget about what we have learned
and start anew
in false belief
that words would bring redemption
and i would finally be free.