I am floating
In midair
I couldn’t help thinking
“How did I get up here?”
Weird…

I looked down
People were crying
Over a coffin
“What am I doing at a funeral?”

Then I saw one of the mourner’s faces
It was my best friend,
Bawling her eyes out
I saw my other friends too
And got nervous.
When I saw my mother, I got scared.
“Who died?”

I looked into the casket
I couldn’t see much,
With my friend flung over the corpse.’
But then I saw the dress.
My black dress
I got a little mad.
“What was that corpse doing in my dress?”

Then I saw the arms:
The familiar white scars on the forearms,
The silver bracelet I never take off.
When I my friend stood to compose herself,
I saw the face.
I wouldn’t have looked if I could, but I had to.

I had to look at myself in death…
With a thick,
Red,
Ropy,
Gash across my throat…