Nihilism crawled into me
At first slippery and silently
Charismatic
This lack of empathy

Maybe it first saw me when I was thirteen
Burning my hands to make dishes clean
An angry father talking family
No gas no groceries just soap and steam

“I’m going to beat you” my father said
There’d been a dog In the coup though no chickens dead
My brother weeped and clutched his head
My hands sticky with feathers ripped and red