Tell me,
Tell me how,
Tell me how I’m selfish,
Tell me how I’m selfish for planning my ending.

Explain to me how, though you can see the ropes tied to my limbs,
and you can feel the itch of my scream in your ears,
and ignore it,
that I am selfish.
“They took their own life”
As if it’s a surprise.
They finally retrieved the ultimate prize.
The right to their own life.
A life spent on somebody else,
as I often restrict myself,
“I can’t leave, there’s too many people relying on me.”
Explain to me how YOU are selfless,
when day after day,
at any opportunity you remind me that I made a MISTAKE.
How dare I try to abandon YOU?
Was my mistake ever trying in the first place,
or not having tried hard enough?
How is it that a right to my life that doesn't belong to me,
negates my right to a death,
the only thing, that will ever be recognised as my own.

“Here lies, Libby Preston, a girl who felt the need to take her own life.”
I apologise for my ‘wrong-doing.’
I apologise that I took control of what should have been, mine.
I apologise that you can’t think past what you feel inside your head.
I apologise that you can’t accept mine.
I apologise for the fact that the human race feels it has the
right to end the life of another living creature,
but do not have the right to do what they would like with
their own.

A death can rattle the planet.
It will cause upset, naturally.
However- emotions fade.
Reality does not.
We can dive into irrelevance,
I will decide not to live a life taped to the sole of somebody else’s shoe,
I will decide to live for me, and to die for me.

Lecture me about consideration, go on,
I dare you.
Hypocrite.

I’m ‘selfish’ for wanting a right to my life.
You’re ‘selfless’ for stopping me.

she looks in the mirror and
she disgusts herself
she digs her own grave
and she puts herself out
she puts up a story and
paints her own mask
she sits and wonders how
she got so off track
she was on her way
all the way to the top
now she can’t do anything
but beg herself to stop
she sits all alone
in a room she painted black
she cried for independence
but she’s always brought back
she can’t be on her own
and she can’t be by herself
she sits on her knees
and contemplates hell
we all make our own
and she creates the worst
because she sits on her own
and pushes it down her own throat

*(r.e.)

And she thinks her thick mascara and
Glittery eyeshadow hides the way she
rolls her eyes dramatically,
And how she
angles her body slightly away from
Me, but very very much more towards
The other student.

The better one, the
Goody-two-shoes, the one with the
perfect grades, the talented one,
The hypocrite
Ohhh OF COURSE she's talented.
--in pretending, maybe.
Seriously? Are you that blind?

But what Ms "I know everything" doesn't know,
is how she goes around raising eyebrows at
Everyone who's not
As good as her,
How she puts on her mask, when a teacher
Stumbles into her radar, and
Rips it off when they disappear, a masterful disguise.

But what
Mr Know-it-all
doesn't know, Is what
happens when a student gets
detected. Once you're in quicksand,
There's no getting out, until you're
made to feel as if you're
worthless, Pure
carbon, when you
could be
a
diamond

All these poor, poor, poor
Teachers. Being fooled so easily, or
Perhaps,
It's just what they wish to see.
After all, everyone loves an angel
...right?
Even if its the devil

"All the worlds a stage"
To some people, I guess,
the world really is a stage.