Explosion (Your Knives)

EXPLOSION (YOUR KNIVES)

for Taylor

you'll be better when I'm gone

when you can't dig your knives

into my baying wounds: you made these,

you turned the blade,

and you hate me when I cry out.

in this tight-knit home, we all have reputations

built of constant sins and patterns of solitude;

mine is the most broken, the most misunderstood,

and you blame me for it.

it was you who called me difficult –

you gave me something to cling to, to strive for,

then you lobotomized my behavior

with your fearsome knives.

don't wonder when I'm glad to leave the nest,

when even tiny ventures are a breath of relief

for all of us.