you swallow the bones of
everyone you've ever
loved, you chase it
with the pity that
sits so deep in
your gut, mirror
mirror on the wall,
who hates themself most
of all.

empathy slips through
your jagged little
fingers, yet guilt and
self loathing make you
cry for yourself, don't
mind your son he
never needed you
anyways.

you sit in the bath
tub, knees pulled to
your vinegar chest, skin
worn off and calloused from
kneeling on red
carpet, head bowed and
hands clasped, begging
please give me some
thing else to be
sorry for.

don't pray for your
son, he never needed
you,
anyways.