A Little Thing Called Death

I don't want to do anything

I don't want to go to school
and see Charli, who's too cheerful all the time
and hits me too hard on the arm when she laughs.

I don't want to go to netball training
and see my team, who've all seen my scars
and trip me deliberately so they can laugh at me.

I don't want to ride the bus home
and see the sour old bus driver who sniffs too much
and who gives me a dirty look if my tie is crooked.

I don't want to go home
and be bullied by my father and yelled at
just because I like my music a little too loud.

I don't want to fall asleep
and dream that I'm drowning with no-one to save me
and wake up wishing that somebody would.