At ten, if I had proceeded with my plan
Would a violin play?
I keep telling myself I don’t like pain and I don’t want to die if it takes too slow
One day, the sun will consume earth
And when that time comes
Play me a violin
Play the instrument I wish to hear when I make my exit
Out of the respect of ten-year-old me who continued to suffer because she was afraid of being unsuccessful

I feel your pain before you express it
Cry your tears before your heart breaks
Guess this pain of yours is genetic
The look of disgust is not for you but for me
Telling my future self to not become my broken secrets
Not to become the skeletons that live in my closet
If this **** is genetic though, then how come you pretend that you don’t feel me?
The tears that I’ve cried in front you, you still looking at me like you’re confused
What do I have to do for my feelings to become genetic so you can feel my pain too?