I think something went wrong when I was made
like God skipped a stitch and left
part of me gaping open and
when I was eight I found that thread and out of
sophomoric curiosity I started tugging
look at me now
a mess of tattered strips of fabric
all tangled up in the thread
that was supposed to hold me together
and sometimes I get it in my head
that someone will come along and
fix me
but that's never quite how it seems to work
because I was sick the day
everyone else got scissors
and so when I expect affection
I get rejection
and the cold snip, snip, snip
of the parts of me they want to take
and now there's not much left
underneath the pretty face
just tangled thread
and a graveyard of a heartbeat