one: dieing was the least of my worries.
two: living requires all my concentration.
three: i have not cried for three days because god made me without tear ducts.
and a half: I think he did it for my own good.
four: i can't sleep because he shouts at me when i dream.
five: i have been buying self help books and feminist poetry
and a half: i want to be stronger.
six: i think i got more of my fathers genes than my mothers.
seven: i am jealous of the other planets because I would like to be alone also.
eight: my loneliness is sweet, sweet, sweet.
nine: ive never felt the kiss of anyone who loved me. Not even from my dad.
ten: i listen to sad music because i understand sad music.
and a half: happy music has never spoken to me.
eleven: my aunties get on there knees and cry and pray for my health, whilst I drink eleven shots and fall to my knees for other reasons.
twelve: i want to believe.
thirteen: i want to be naïve.
fourteen: i would like to be less selfish, but I still find myself avoiding newspapers because my life is hard enough without the weight of the world on my shoulders also.
fifteen: i am weary of treading too ******* dirt because i know it will be my home one day.
sixteen: i remember how hard it was to imagine myself living past seventeen.
seventeen: as flames flicker I feel them burning my flesh. as they will.
eighteen: who would've thought my lungs would still support me to this age.