still i rise!
don’t you let the tears dry out in your eyes,
let them roll to your cheeks,
Storyteller
don’t you let the tears dry out in your eyes,
let them roll to your cheeks,
the only two residents of the house,
a mother and a daughter
how can you touch me
when I can’t touch myself?
a distinct odor,
a peculiar paint,
a reflection in the mirror
that stares
wipe the blade clean,
wipe it clean
before someone sees