Sometimes when I see myself in the mirror,
I wonder why I exist.
After all the mess I've been through,
And all the embarrassment I've brought on myself.
I know that with a smooth incision on my wrist
With that blade in my bathroom cabinet,
I'll welcome death as an old friend.

But, why should I die?

Should I die because I failed to excell in my class,
And let my standards down?
Should I die because
I did not stand up to the expectations?
Or because I promised to get full marks in maths,
But got 50?

Should I die because I waited for my so called
Perfect guy for years, and I finally got stood up?
Should I die because I invested my feelings?

Should I die because I desperately
Wanted to kiss a girl, to forget about my past.
Forget about my childhood trauma,
For being bullied because I was a tomboy?

Should I die because by...