why does this ink look like a bloodstain?
it sings like writing on the wall.
it stings like the mirror i shattered
and the darkness i spilled and i splattered.
why does this page allow its face
to be struck, scarred, mangled, and marked?
these words tear themselves apart at the seams
eviscerate themselves to understand what they mean.
why does this poet stretch her jaw βtil it breaks
just to show the world whatβs inside?
she should hide. she should hide!
but the price of her pride
is to endlessly, manically ππππ.
