I
you will be saddened
by trivial things,
the unfamiliar fridge magnets,
the arrangement of the furniture.

II
you will shiver without
the shelter afforded
by misguided boys
with pills in their pockets.

III
no one else will forgive you
the illusion of control,
the rhythm of numbers
scrawled across your ribcage.

IV
instead of friends,
you will tell strangers about
your self-assured destruction,
the alarms on the windows.

V
you are no longer
the beautiful wreckage left
when a train of innocents
crashes into wonderland.