i can’t do anything correctly.
“stop cutting”
“promise me that you won’t cut”
i hear you, father, every time
that knife glides across my skin.
every time that knife digs in.
every time that knife pours out my feelings.
couldn’t i just disappear?
you wouldn’t be so stressed.
less money spent.
more fun.
no girls in the house.
guys night out.

it’s for you.