the night i died was a tragic, vain intention.
it took place in poster full bedroom,
and pocket full of tears.
the night i died, i rolled out of my body watching everything around me.
i saw my fraile body hanging there by a rope,
pale and lifeless
and very much
when my body hit the ground with a loud thump,
i backed away, mortified, and flickered my head to the white door that reminded of a soft delicate bunny.
my mother called out to me.
she repeated my name once.
she bursted into the room with an expression i could not read.
i studied her face more until she screamed,
my father was next,
he just dropped to his knees and lifted my neck out of the necklace of doom.
they knew i was gone.
before i knew it we were in the E.R,
my mother was screaming for somebody as my father held me and let the tears fall onto my grey and blue sweatshirt.
i was still in my black jeans and dad's sweatshirt.
my body was instantly laid onto a stretcher
and was rushed into a room where my parents could not enter.
my father was holding my mother back from running to me,
although it was just my body, i was next to her.
it was the three of us.
i was in the E.R trying to be brought back with electrocution of some sort,
my mother was silently sitting on those black chairs that were very uncomfortable and plastic,
my father was sitting on the left of her, staring at the floor,
i was watching them, trying to figure out why they loved me so much.
the bald doctor finally dragged his feet back out to the hall,
and called out our last name.
my mum and dad looked at him with hope but all he did was apologize.
there were screams,
dragged out 'o' in no,
and why my child?
they told them they could go ahead and see me, i was now in the morgue,
in a white grown with scattered polka dots all over.
my rosy cheeks were drained to a whispered pale,
my ******-brown hair was still long and flowed off the bed,
my freckles seemed less visible, they matched the colour of soft caramel when they were really a a deep brown.
my lips were white and chapped,
and my eyes were closed.
and there was a burned, red thick line from the rope all the around my small neck.
my mother ran three fingers down my temple to my cheek,
she whispered "i love you, my baby."
my father said "i love you, princess."
my body just laid there in complete silence, nothing but their soft sobs filled the room.
i stood next to them and i choked an apology but they cant hear me,
my mother carefully took ahold of my limp hand and intertwined my with hers.
my nails were still chipped and were covered in black nail polish that i refused to take off because i never wore any other colour.
she ran her thumb over my knuckles and stared at me, with again, a gaze i am not familiar with.
they stayed for over two hours watching me, crying and sobbing.
after that, the doctors told my parents it was time to go, my father almost had to drag my mum out of the morgue.
leaving me and my body in the room alone.
i was scared.
i wanted my mother.
i wanted my father.
i wanted my sister.
i wanted to go back.
i don't want to be dead.
but, that was the night i died.