The first time you felt your soul slip away, you had overdosed on drugs.
Mama had come into your room and found you shivering as though it were cold.
Your siblings had crowded the room, staring with tear filled eyes. You were a model.
You were sorry. You regretted your actions.
Two days later, the thoughts came back. Stronger and persistent.
You retreated into yourself.
Ugomma, the girl next door, saw you and felt sorry. You may have shared an empathy link.
In your room, you slit your wrists.
Mama found you again. This time you were quite dead. Gone.

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