Flat on my back,
I wonder if I should redecorate my room before I go.
If I ever have the guts to go.
Sorry, not “guts”.

Sitting up slightly,
I realise something:
If I were to go now,
I wouldn’t leave any of
my “friends” a note.
Maybe they’d wonder why they didn’t get one,
but one can’t be too hopeful in this filthy world.

Standing infront of my covered mirror,
I try to see through the blue
fog of my jumper to what they call my face.

No, I wouldn’t leave them the letters,
but I would make sure to leave my family some.