Left in Stitches

 Don’t misinterpret
                don’t misread
         [seeing yourself reflected in my
                            languid pool always
                              means the death of me]

   It’s no accident that I’m quiet.
                  This barely means
       I’m speechless; done with that.

        Why do I always become the villain
                            in everytaker’s fairytales?
                   They have never met [me]
                            but never fail to use [me].
                       For my empathy, my interest,
                               my creativity, my soul.
                            It’s an… antiquity, I know.
   & every time you fail it’s like  …
      my mouth stretches/and stretches
  I smile, my sutures split o p e n
                                       I can’t help
                                                     the smirk


oh, j’adore war


3 thoughts on “Left in Stitches

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