4. The Little Girl Who Killed Herself
There’s a tombstone at the graveyard,
blank and grey,
waiting for my name to get engraved in it.
You bought a bouquet for me in the spring,
and I kept it locked tight,
hoping I could take them with me down under.
I had 43 pills in my inner pocket in my favorite jacket,
I lost them in December, and in January the flowers
had turned into dust.
I was going to jump in front of the train in February,
but my bones were too hollow to let me
get all the way to the station,
so in march I went to the graveyard instead,
and fell to rest on top of the newly engraved
spelling out my name in blood red colors.
In April you put a bouquet of roses for me,
and got your sister to drop them off at
the train station.
People forget me. I turned to bone,
finally as I wanted. I doubt you cried.