Analysis of Istabane

I walk pass hungry men
who then insult me by
calling me nameless names

I hated myself when I was 7
I was 9 when I wanted to die
tied a rope around my neck
twisting heart beat pounding
eyes bulging out of my skull
I swear I heard Angels sing
I convinced myself I had done it

13 on my third fail I cut my wrist in half
cover my walls in blood to remind
myself that everything beautiful
should suffer through the words of men

I now choose a designated path
at night where restless drivers
seem not to care of life more
than they seek revenge with
staples in their mouth

by this time I had hoped
they’ll send me to the closest morgue.