i died for the first time when i was fourteen

sitting on a hotel room floor in the wake of a hurricane, my mind crumbled as the lightbulb flickered above my head

perhaps, came the knife, countring calories for a month would help alleviate the stress

i accepted, as any naive child would

stepped up to my kingdom come

and the knife pierced my organs.

the second time around, i was fifteen

no one had realized my first death

i resurfaced on the beach after nearly drowning in the ocean

because even the waves pitied me

maybe, came the sword, a little more than a month won't hurt

i, like any lonely child would, agreed

lifted my dress so that i wouldn't trip

and the sword cut through my sides.

the last time i died, i was sixteen

so much braver than the tiny eighth grader who came before me

you know, came the axe, there's nothing left to keep you away from counting now

a year has passed, so what's left?

so i, like any exhausted child would, bowed my head

and like katherine howard, a child herself, lying on the mounting block

the axe fell down.