I have a weird name
It’s hard to pronounce, it’s hard to spell
People end up calling me whatever suits them best anyway

My name is French
But I don’t speak French
This always disappoints

My name is pretentious
I am just a girl who lives in the roughest part of a rich area
I have the benefits of a post code though

I confuse sirens for my alarm tone
My bed becomes a coffin
My phone foreshadows my death
The siren that was supposed to save me

I confuse dreams for nightmares
My favourite meal doesn’t taste bitter anymore
I can eat without my mother watching me
I never finish anything I start

I don’t realise that whenever I eat in public I force feed myself and call it discipline
I’m lucky; I get to eat what I want without getting skinny

how is that possible? Can you guess?

i'm doing my doctor a favour ,whenever she sees me she gets to fix me; she gets to do her job

But no medicine can cure what only exists in my head

If pain only exists in the mind then why do i know the metallic taste of blood?