it is a visceral pain
realizing i have been begging you
to help me
my entire life
reaching out my hands for you,
holding knives
you,
cutting deep
i stitch myself up, but
you never let me heal
you always go deeper than the last time
you find ways to twist serrated blades
to hit old wounds
opening up grief i didn't think i'd see again
i am six years old
i am lying in a pool of blood
you don't care
you don't even see the color red
you just think you are god's gift
in the metallic reflection