There are no words for the kind of ugly thing I am
Blood and mucous and little limbs
Stockholm syndrome for the one who stole me
From myself
Left me in a loneliness that can’t be filled
Left me twisted evil and shrill
Calling out ‘father father why have you forsaken me?’
Unable to sleep or feed myself
Carrying weight on, in, over, over and over
Unable to end it, you took that too
Didn’t you daddy
No rest for the ugly wicked things
Only peeling skin, teeth on teeth
Wait for me, wait please
Now I lay me down to wait
Weight on me
Hand and foot, held down
Frayed out on an old braided rug
Every ugly thing covered in dust
Cannot recall beauty
The beauty of being whole stolen left broken
Only ugly, ugly thing I am
No words
~me
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