The day of my funeral, I felt guilty and watched as my parents cried.
The day of my funeral, I laughed as I watched my clueless three year old brother fool around with my clueless baby cousins.
The day of my funeral, a watched how dismal the clouds were in the sky.
The day of my funeral, I sighed as my body was carried to the gravesite.
The day of my funeral, I got one last glimpse of the scar on my neck from the noose that killed me.

To the tune of "Like a Dream"

Last night a sprinkling of rain,
a violent wind.

After a deep sleep, still not recovered
from the lingering effect of wine,
I inquired of the one rolling up the screen;
But the answer came: "The cherry-apple blossoms
are still the same."

"Oh, don't you know, don't you know?
The red must be getting thin,
while the green is becoming plump."

The way the blade bites.
The way it runs down your skin on lonely nights.
When the voices in your head won't stop.
Take the sliver blade and feel it drop. One cut.
A little deeper.
Feel it dig in to your skin as a pain reliever.
Sweet relief.
No more grief.
Wait how am I gonna hide this from mom.
She'll  wonder what's going on.
Why is your arm bleeding.
Why are the red lines seeping.
Why the hell????

Her baby walks
She looks on proudly
One foot then the other
Step by step
Across the stage

His eyes find hers
Arms thrown high in victory
Diploma in hand
“Mommy look at me”
Her baby walks