17
TW: SH, suicide, disordered eating
Who is going to die today?
And who will live without
A sister or a brother
Or a fragment of themself?
Who is going to slit their wrists?
And who will slice right through
And bleed onto the carpet
Of our old, bunk-bedded room?
Who will finally get to go
And who will be the one
To break it to our parents
That their only child is gone?
Who will keep the scars
And be the sibling that survived?
Who'll be blamed for children
Trying so damn hard to die?
I was just eleven,
And you were just thirteen
When you discovered starving
And blades were my favourite meal.
You were only fifteen
When you found the scissors too.
I would always wish that
I could take it all from you.
I am only fourteen,
And you just turned sixteen,
But I can feel you fading
In your room next door to me.
I cut myself in darkness
While you cry yourself to sleep.
I can see the bandages
You hide beneath your sleeves.
All I ever wanted
Was for you to be alive
But both of us are drowning
At the same fucking time.
So who is going to die today?
I wish that it was me.
Don't you dare give up;
Please hold on till seventeen.