Rage sleeps in a hospital bed, 
bleach dried and exhausted.
Let me talk you 
softly,
rationally. 
1.
God may be forgiving, 
my mother is not.
So, am afraid of 
being saved .
So I don't jump out
of the burning window :
rather let the fire to come.
You can't call this love,
for this is not.

2.
I tried to dig a grave 
for myself and 
my father laughed at my me:
The proportions are not correct, 
he said,
stupid girl.

3.
In the chronological order,
I am 
a broken tooth,
nagging finger of sorrow,
angry daughter,
low maintenance car,
an unruled fate.

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