I was fourteen when I
had a vision
of my dieing by my own hand
not that day, not the next one
but soon because in the vision
I was still a little girl
I wept for my death
bought flowers, bought a black dress
prayed till my knees were red
to absolve my sins before I went
and then I didn't
not that year, not the next one
not before my eighteen and
not the years after
but the fear did not leave
there is still time and
n the mirror I still see
a little girl
of my dieing by my own hand
not that day, not the next one
but soon because in the vision
I was still a little girl
I wept for my death
bought flowers, bought a black dress
prayed till my knees were red
to absolve my sins before I went
and then I didn't
not that year, not the next one
not before my eighteen and
not the years after
but the fear did not leave
there is still time and
n the mirror I still see
a little girl
Please
be mine
