sui caedere

At ten she hated
herself to the point she planned her death -
a bubble in a syringe
straight into her bloodstream.

At thirteen she was raped
not violently but she still protested
losing her virginity to her cousin
death became a luxury

At sixteen she couldn’t see
past the pain, the lack of friends,
the invisibility emanating off her skin,
the though of death a solace

At twenty-one she lost
her fiancé and unborn child
in a car accident in which she was driving
even death did not want her

At twenty-seven she cried
herself to sleep every night alone
despite the fact she was married
death renewed its wooing

At thirty she learned
the way blood congeals and curls
to darkened cracks on the floor
death made a formal introduction.