I am 13 again,
Crying on the bathroom floor,
Pretending to be over 18 on poetry apps,
Trying to find someone who also wants to die
Or someone who is starving themself so that they can wear that shirt in the back of the wardrobe,
The one that's tight and shows a little skin.
Someone comments saying I'll be fine but instead I cry and wish I would be ok but instead I know that I'm destined to end up on the floor next to my bath, 
With my hair on the floor drowned in my puke,
The pills in my hand as I am spread out on my floor.

I am 13 still,
I want to die more than anything I've ever wanted 

My 14th birthday approaches and my parents ask what I want, 
I giggle and tell them I want a head stone.

Me
**** - 2021
- suicide 
© me