I remember you little kid.
You always were the first in school
even though that didn't make you really cool.
You did not care about you body,
you treated it just like another toy.

But just like this poem's rime
you became a broken toy.
Your mind so full of stars
became silent in shame
over your broken soul.

You killed yourself when we were twelve.
I was left alone.
Alone with your body
in a room
with no doors.

I tried to cry over you rotting body
but the tears wouldn't come out anymore.
We used to cry together over childish things,
but now I am alone and I feel like actually crying
yet it won't happen so I try to laugh.
We used to laugh
all
the
time
but I no longer can
for you are not here,
only your carcase is.
Only your ****** carcase.

You used to say:
"Laugh because you are sad,
cry because it'll make you happy"
and maybe I agree, so I'll remember it.

I'll remember you as if you were real.
I'll remember you as if you existed
far above the page I'm writing in,
but you don't.
Yet your body is tied to mine
rotting in this room with no doors
and I hope I can forget you once more.

It's surprising the power words have on people.
I could have tried to **** myself at 12,
but it never crossed my mind.
I tried to **** myself a couple of times,
yet here I am.
Remembering you kiddo.