If I Died

If I died, would people say, "What a waste?"
But who really got to taste
Celest or
Heather
Whichever
I don't know which way to go
All I know how to do is flow.
Grow
In this rhyming game
"It really is a shame.
She was only eighteen, had barely begun to live."
But life could never give
Her what she needed to be free
Free from herself, free from insanity.
She was always in pain and never laughed enough
Always thought she had to be so fucking tough.
She felt like she couldn't be who she was while she was here
So much blood and so many tears.
Life was never really kind to her
She always hated that name. . . Heather.
But a cutter by any other name
Still bleeds the same
Still cuts herself, buried in shame.
When she dies
Will those scars still be on her thighs?
What will the morticians do?
When they see what she had been through.
When they see the lines, and words, carved into her skin
Pain inside brought out to win.
20 lines to freedom she carved. . .
When it cost too much to love, it was then that she starved.
She had a hole that couldn't be filled on earth,
No one to tell her what she was worth.
Life just wasn't enough to let her live
Fuel to her sickness is all it would give.

November 2002