My mother warned me about cigarettes that could cause cancer
But she never told me that self-hatred can grow faster than any tumour ever could

My father warned me that I should never stop thinking
But he never told me that overthinking would kill my happiness

My sister warned me about other people who might make hurtful comments about me
But she never told me that instead of hearing someone else’s voice, I’d hear my own

My brother warned me about drugs in baggies sold on the street,
But he never told me about the ones that people put in your glass when you’re not looking

My grandmother warned me about the devil with his tail and red horns
But she never told me about his angelic smile and dark, ocean blue eyes

My grandfather warned me about booze that could kill
But he never told me that if you drink enough alcohol, it tastes like love

My cousin warned me that I should love my virginity to a guy I love
But she never told me he should love me, too

My aunt warned me that if I kept eating that much, I might vomit
But she never told me that even without eating anything, you can hang over the toilet and puke

My baby sitter warned me that a boy could break my heart
But she never told me that if I made him mad, he’d also break my arm and nose

My teacher warned me about dangerous men with knives that could cut my throat
But she never told me that I didn’t need these men to cut my skin

They all warned me that I shouldn’t do dangerous things that could kill me
But I never had the chance to ask them if slitting both of my wrists vertically
And taking thirty-eight aspirins, was one of these dangerous things