This House Feels More Like a Tomb

This bed
feels more like a coffin,
this house
more like a tomb.
I've trapped myself,
in this dim and dusty room.
I've gone without sleep,
I'll rest when I'm dead.
I don't need to eat,
not a single crumb of bread.
I'm not weak.
Its the truth.
I've done all this to prove
to the world
that I don't need its pity.
If I die
it will be by my own hands,
and, trust me,
it won't be pretty.
I just want you to know, Mommy,
this is all for you.
I hope you see, Daddy,
I care about myself
just as much as you do.