My mother tried to send herself to hell,
and in turn, my sister did the same.
Only, my sister succeeded,
at 11:03 am, there for the eyes
of her five year old child.

You see, I’ve never known poverty
or what it’s like to drive a used car
because we bathed in money
to drown out the sorrows,
and we tossed our spare change in garbage cans
to try and lose the devil.

What if Shakespeare’s not right,
and all the demons aren’t here?
What if my sister plunged herself into a hole
filled with all of her darkest fears?
I swear to God himself, I hope he’s right,
because I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,
I can’t even imagine.