Sleeves of scars
and a garter of silver lines and burns
oh the hurt I've endured
Seated by the fire as a child
Lord knows I've had thoughts like this for a while
I'd dwell on the discretion I took
brooding over every hook that snagged my flesh
made a mess
of the little girl I never was
and they who shook me
pet me from the inside out
must have forgotten to what degree
their consumptive hands made me bleed
God how I wish they could see
every stain left with or without cause
was provoked by their nostalgic applause
but I don't even blame them
It was a conscious disease
perniciously eating
still chewing at me.