Author's Note: First off, I'd like to apologize for how angsty this is. I tried to avoid making it too cliché and, for lack of a better word, emo, but considering the topic that's sort of unavoidable. It probably isn't that good from a poetic point of view, but it was one of those poems I found myself starting and unable to stop until I'd gotten it all out. The emotion in this is real and the events are real, but it's up to the reader to decide what is metaphor and what is just the facts (Hint: I'm not insane.). I'm sorry it's probably really confusing… but the events were confusing in themselves and there's a lot I'm still struggling to make sense of. But I think getting it out on paper (well, into pixels technically since I wrote it on my computer) sort of gave me a sense of peace about what happened. Despite all its flaws this means more to me than anything I have ever written, ever and it would mean the world to me if you reviewed… if anyone is still reading after that note I just did.
She never came down
When (if?) you wake up
Is there anything we can get you?
How about the moon
With a fence around it?
To my knowledge I have
not met her
I suppose I could have passed her in the streets
In the halls
As we shuffled (like cards.
Like bad luck.)
From room to room and
Crowd to crowd
Covered in sticky supermarket labels,
Getting off on the secondhand high
Though I'm surprised I didn't notice her
'cause with her
Panic-stricken red eyes;
g hands that pushed and pushed
The needle into her visible veins
failing. Just failing.
She had the look everyone wanted
"Why do you want to
look like him
That boy is sick
His cell walls collapsing inside his mouth
Why not like her?"
I talk to ghosts
Scare the hell out of me
And I'm talking to you
Because you parted so vaguely
And I have some questions
Well, I guess I'll
start with the obvious one:
Why did you do it?
Man, this feels like a school report suddenly
But answer me
As though you still had a voice
Was it a dare?
Were you in an altered state?
Were you just scared?
I'm no specialist but I know
Way too fucking much about being scared
Were you just trying to prove a point?
That you're not a poser because posers don't get to be in the newspaper?
Because I hate to say it but
The ones you tried to shock
Are too busy trying to score some Prozac to notice
That they'll never get a chance to apologize to you
This is to all of you
who think you can call yourselves experts because
You (think you) know there's nothing more to it than
Concentrating on everything
And not being able to get you mind out of the gutter
Were you just trying to
Through your reactions
That you aren't different?
Were you just trying to prove
Through your actions
That you weren't the same?
Did someone mistake you for me?
I know how devastating that can be
But I'm sure when you dragged your
Pale bony blue-veined
(blue; like the blood of gods)
The tracks were so much
Straighter and whiter
If She Didn't Do It
Could I have changed
If we had met would you
Because things haven't changed that much
You're still higher status so you're allowed to laugh
Or maybe you'd be nice enough to allow me to simply
Fuck the hierarchy and tell a joke or something.
If we met would you
I wouldn't mind if you just cried
I know I suck at saving people.
They gave me the
answers to your questions
They gave you the answers to mine
Maybe we could have talked and swapped
And everything would have ended up okay
If you had the chance
would you come back?
If you saw what you've done to your best friend
(How could you do this if you had a best friend?
How could you do this if you had friends at all?
I don't get it)
Would you if you saw what it didn't do to
The ones you were trying to impress
Or would you stay away and
Just be glad it's over?
So, did you relate
To absolutely everyone?
Were you up
When you did it
Was your problem simply
That you didn't relate?
You were down
All the time?
I'm sorry if I sound
conceited and self-righteous
I just thought someone should say something so they realize
We're not all dead
My mom says, "She
sounds like she was a hyper-sensitive bitch. Can we talk about
My dad says, "That's an old drug, I wonder where she got it? Are you sure she's not a myth some morbid attention-desperate person created to get attention?"
And I don't know the answer to that.
All I know is
With her designer jeans (now baggy on her) around her ankles
And her heart rate absurdly normal
She got high and
She never came down.
So thank you for your
time, and we're down to the last two questions
Did you ever exist?
Who am I now?