By Allie Marie
knives across the room.
Even when I’m gone, I know what you do.
Then, you aim to make me forget.
You give me a few minutes before you turn around.
Kindness is a pretty little thing to try to scar.
Trying to be better, in practice doesn’t seem to get me far.
I am getting tired.
My parents taught me goodness a bit too well.
I don’t care to fall.
My fake smile is filled with anger,
but I can’t be you.