Everything in the world, the universe, came out so very perfectly. The perfect amount of matter to sculpt something everlasting. Something that will outlast even us.

You, and all of your flaws and imperfections will always mean more to me than all of it, no matter how absolute your colorless sense of carelessness for me, it doesn't matter.
Forget about me if you like, but remember this always.

You don't ask if I'm doing okay,
You don't act like you care at all,
You dont ask anyone how I am,
By now I know that you're not going to call.

I wonder if you even miss me,
Youre probably looking at other girls,
I still think about you every day,
And I will as long as the globe twirls.

From heaven to earth and everything
in the galaxy that lies between,
No one will ever love you as much
as I did when I was seventeen.

See, heres the problem i always have,
I ended up caring too much,
What are all of these feelings worth,
When I no longer have your hand to clutch?

We all carry heavy burdens,
You have your reasons for leaving,
but you seem so unaffected by this,
How come im the only one greiving?

I can tell that you aren't hurting,
Because your voice still sounds the same,
When I feel pain you can hear it in
My words and how i say your name.

I would give everything I have,
For you to feel like you did before,
but how do you make someone love you,
The way they did when they don't anymore?

And maybe some of you care about me.
And don't want me to die.
And feel a bucket full and flowing and flowing kinda pain,
If i die.
Maybe some of you would stare blankly at the wall,
Regret a few words of yours and miss me.
Maybe some of you would go out of your way to get me back.
Maybe some of you are just my mommy and daddy.
Maybe you love me at times,
And maybe you contribute to my depression at times.
But one thing remains,
You're my parents and I, I'm your child.
And losing your child ain't easy, no?
And maybe if i'm holding my heavy breaths,
the reason are you.
I know I'm a bad child,
And by choosing suicide over you,
I don't want to be the worst.

Maybe if you people were are as careless as you're today after my death too,
And be least bothered of my feelings as you're today after my death too.

I'd have died long ago.

Every time I
catch a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window I
have to check.

Legs. Still there, apparently.
Still thin even though I
ate lunch today.

Every time I
sit down on the toilet to *** I
have to check.

Tailbone. Still protrudes a little, apparently.
Still hasn’t disappeared, isn’t
buried under fat even though I
put milk in my coffee this morning.

Softly, gently
My hands explore my back, tracing up
along my spine because I
have to check.

I wonder if I look a bit like
a dinosaur illustration from a child’s encyclopaedia:
you know, the one with the triangular bump-y things
running along its back?
Stegosaurus! That’s the one!
(I had to Google it.)

I have to check.