I have two sisters, a father, and a mother.
I would die for any of them.

But dying.
Is it because i don't want to be here?
     Or is it because of my love for them?

For my father, i would die out of love.
For my mother, i would die out of love.
For my twin sister, i would die out of love.
For my older sister, i would die out of love, and go to all ends of the world for her.

I would die, out of love, for all of them.
       But also to get out of this life.

Long sleeves, even in the summer and spring.
You feel them when you run your hands over your arms.
They remind you.

            The scars.

Sometimes they disappear over time and you get to breathe -
be normal, for a while.
But that is the thing.

             Only for a while.

You got to feel free that time, do you remember?
(how could you forget?)
But as it always does,

         it came crushing and trashing back.
         That feeling, that feeling you keep trying to suffocate.

Back to the long sleeves.