Sometimes, when no-one is around,
I dream of lying in a pool of blood --
not just any, mind you, no,
the hand that drew the blood would surely be my own.
I'd watch my parents, all in tears,
find the body, the blankets with red smears.
My mom would cry and gnarl like a dead tree --
for once, it would be about me.
At the wake, Lara, my best friend,
would wail about how bad she feels for stealing Brett.
And Brett (if you haven't guessed yet, he's my ex) --
He'd beg God to bring me back, and not just for the sex.
And at the funeral, where no eye would be dry,
They'd look quietly at the coffin, all thinking but one question: why?
Even Brett (who, from heartbreak, would turn gay),
would think of me - because that would be my day.
Sometimes, when no-one is around,
I dream of lying in a pool of my own blood.
Not because anything is wrong, or due to a poor providence,
but just because I really need an audience.
