What is wrong?
"You know".

I know?
How can I know?
Everytime.
So many times.

I cannot be all your anger with the world,
I cannot take all your anger.
It envelopes me.
It suffocates me.

How can I always know?

You used to tease me about my fat-pants.
One button too tight, so I didn’t eat the biscuits.

I don’t eat the biscuits anymore.

Because they remind me of the taste in my mouth,
When I heard about you
And the crash
And the fact that you’re gone.

I am tired.
Tired of a world where I live by morals.
Why do they not exist for others?

I am scared.
Scared of people.
Scared of what they do to each other every single day.

I am small.
So small sometimes I cannot be seen.

It frightens me.

I am myself. I am an open book. I am a melody.
But why can no-one read me –
Why can no-one hear me –
Am I a different language?
Am I a different sound?