I'm not rich
Not in Diamonds, Gold, or Emeralds
Not in Art, or Books, or Wine
I'm rich in Rubies
Gallons of small gems
The sharp cut facets
Tinkling against my skin
I'm rich in Rubies
The weight of them
Crushing me as they spill on the floor
Dripping down in Droplets
Puddles around the Drain
I'm not rich in a real sense
I'm rich in Blood Red Rubies

At 8 I said "I wish I didn't exist."
At 9 I thought of a world where I wasn't there.
At 10 I said "I wish I was dead."
At 11 I started to picture my funeral.
At 12 I started to wear long sleeves.
At 13 I didn't think I'd make it to 14.
At 14 I didn't think I'd make it to 15.
At 15 I almost didn't, and took a vacation behind locked doors...
At 16 I tried to forget.
At 17 I started to remember.
At 17 I looked back.
I started to say, and think, and do like before.
I started to wear long sleeves.
I started to imagine my casket.
I started to panic.
I started to feel as I did at 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8
An evil spiraling countdown, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...
                                            I tried again