I am convinced that I’m going to die.
In a puddle of blood, is where I lie.

The man running away, has my purse and my phone.
I’m left paralyzed in the streets with no way to call home.
My blood runs thin.
My hands are cold.
My nostrils are filled,with scents of garbage and mold.

When the sun rises tomorrow,
the news will aware,
the citizens of Chicago,about the girl with brown hair.

They will report my death,to everyone in town.
Because my rich ass fiance will gladly spread the news around.
He will pay for my funeral, it’ll be too fancy I’m sure.
And he’ll sob over my coffin, alongside his mistress in fur.

My parents will mourn over their long lost daughter.
Mostly because, she forgot everything they taught her.

Father will cry because I was never there.
Not when mom was diagnosed with cancer,
or when she lost her hair.
Mother will fret about my spiritual side.
I told her I went to church, and she knows I lied.

As for the rest of the poeple I know…
they will be thankful that it was my time to go.