because nothing is ever your fault
and time is death with a prettier name
so take the hand pointing a knife at your throat
and plunge it in yourself
your actions are anything but your own
the pain that webs your body just wants a home
cocoon it and the pain is anger
it is you, but the face in the mirror is not yours
not anymore
YOU ARE READING
MY PRICES TO PAY
PoetryA LIT MATCH IN AN UNLIT HOME THREATENING TO BURN BURN BURN my late night words for late night viewers
