Incision
Nip the bud before something
can have a chance to grow,
this word gathers the seams of skin,
hemming in our body parts,
skin, fat, muscle, bone. What is
a body for? but to exist in a realm
of our own destruction and doubt.
We nip in our own image to make perfect
where perfect isn’t a language we can speak.
We live until the blood clot unfolds
like a bud then blooms into a crimson rose.
We can only control our own self-deception.
We cannot love what we cannot change,
and we only nip what we can learn to despise,
our eyes are our only enemy, envy is just a symptom.
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