Here's a half-naked picture of me
because your father is an alcoholic
and mine used to beat me until I left.
Another **** rip for my straight-A sister,
a hole through the wall for my mom,
scratches on my hips from secrets I should have kept.
Here's mascara on every pillow case I've ever owned
blood on my jeans from biting my nails
and pressing them face down to smother
the redness and keep it from my hands.
Another stab wound through my papers
because these words, they don't scream, they scratch
ever-so-slightly at the inside of my skull.
But I yank out the wrong wires and so it goes.