The grim reaper’s hand spent years gripping my neck and I was grateful

Because death brought me more comfort than being alive

The prospect used to feel like home but now I understand I was being choked

And now I’m happy that I no longer want to die because it would upset my mother too much

And even though I despise how she used to beat me that doesn’t mean I want her to see

My rotting, cold corpse hanging from
The ceiling fan

God I hate visualizing it

The last time I visited my psychiatrist he said I should be in a hospital

But I told him that I didn’t want to die and was therefore fine

And my mom let out a sigh of relief

And I’m sorry for being unhappy but it’s hard to be anything else

When your parents passed down their sadness to you along with the blue eyes

And your body doesn’t match your soul

And I’m sorry for the inconvenience but

Maybe I should’ve been in a hospital

And poked and prodded and handled like an animal

Like a bomb that has already gone off

Maybe I would feel at home

Surrounded by other kids with tired eyes rather than

A mother who drinks too much and

Brothers I can no longer take care of

Maybe I would feel at home

Surrounded by bombs

Maybe I would feel at home

Surrounded by nothing