I’m cutting your string.
The ball can roll
like columbus round the world
looking for the edge.
And I’ll be left
with the short piece
ready to drop it in the trash
while you tangle with your mess.
Sticky fingers,
trapped in knots
wondering how I got away
without a catch.
That’s what happens
when you play with girls
who run with scissors.
I’m sharp as steel
and just as strong.
Be careful
it might be
your fingers bleeding.