the violence and it
burns
right through me.
How did I become this?
What made me
half girl
half knife?
Holding my mother’s grief
in one hand
and my father’s
anger
in the other.
I wonder I wonder I wonder.
In dreams my house is on fire,
myself standing in the flames.
Always burning.
Always the girl
who can’t escape.
Cruelty had made me
a monster.
but all along I have wished to be
tender.
Cruel hands birth nothing but cruel hands and the cycle continues.
(Poem by @heavensghost.)