I knew a pain like yours once
When my mother scratched my neck with her nails
For breaking her only pair of glasses
When my father slapped my brother
When he stayed out past curfew
When I burnt my hand on the oven range.
When I was making my grandmother eggs.
A memory is what you make of it.
I have to cut into my flesh
To tally up the days
To recall a better heart
Than sing these vapid songs
About remainders always staying
I never know what I’m made of
I am just the one you like to break when everyone is hating you.
A soul is what you take from it.
Roots have a way
Of stretching into other people’s lives
Intertwined and involved
I’ve never been weaker
Than when I kiss you
When I cover myself in yr words
And when I stay down
hold myself underwater
Lets see how long I can hold my breath.
