My mother wanted me to become a doctor,
Like the rest of my siblings and cousins
But I'm irreconcilably afraid of sharp things and blood
It's why I've grown good with words
It is also why I've never got my heart broken
I wanted so bad for my thoughts to come into existence so
I've become what I am
It feels like everything I've done in my life I've done out of spite
At no one in particular, perhaps at terrible books and washed out cliches
No blood was shed, in that silent war
Only disappointments
I guess it is why I have a tendency for trying to fix
Things well beyond repair
A hack of sorts
Bending over rags and bones
Writhing affection and wriggling bonds
Strange, you could run to the end of the world from
Your destiny and still bump into it in a back alley.