I am not as thoughtful as my grandmother
I have not sent a card in years

I am not as easygoing as my grandfather
I turn to the wind with a grimace

I am baby-faced and brimming with rage
the size of dragon flames, licking my insides

I am the night-sweeper, cleaning the vacant parking lot
riddled with coke cans, wrappers, and discarded skin

I am the roadkill, disfigured on the shoulder pass
writhing, ever-after in passerby consciousness

I am the killer, who slammed on her brakes, too late
wringing my head in my hands like a slinky toy

I am the guitar, decomposing in dust bunnies
Waiting on sadness to peel back the strings again

I am the misfit, sentenced to the claw machine
stitched unkempt, two buttons, from three – foregone

I am the thick ream of mildewed parking tickets
nobody cares ‘till I’m angry and red

I am the warm kiss on my father’s cold forehead
The last words he spoke, incomplete-

I am not as thoughtful as my grandmother
Blue-in-the-cheeks with despondence

Drawing a bath, to sink under again
Counting the bubbles until holiday time

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by howtodrown

Instagram: @how2drown
Spotify: @howtodrown