It's true
I romanticize about the times I could've died
As an aborted
As a premie
Intentionally from the age of eleven
Recently just
Would you miss me?
Places I would've blown to
People I would've died for
Once, I hit my head so hard
I got scared
Once, I forgot who I was
And imagined the worst
Sometimes I know I am alive
Only through the reminder
Of more pain to endure
Worth is subjective, irrelevant
To the hopelessness and fear
Of a sole alone
Would it be better to have been here
And ignored
Then to have never been at all?
I don't know.
I don't know.