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What's left of me
2 months ago · · Poetry,
If I blow my brains out, pieces of me will be left everywhere.
On the hardwood floor, where I slid around in my socks.
On the fridge, where my mom displayed my kindergarten art work.
On the bed, where I had all my wildest sleepovers.
On the dresser, where I kept all my questionable fashion choices.
On the TV, where I laughed until I cried.
On the couch, where I pet my dog and talked to my family.
On the car, where I had my first kiss.
On the driveway, where I learned to ride my bike.
On the house.
On the neighborhood.
On the school.
On the town.
So if I blow my brains out, I can't pick up those pieces.
They’ll just sit there,
and be what's left of me.