there are too many fathers
in the one I have
I can’t find the one who is nice to me
*
he never makes it through
*
she’ll wear my face for the rest of her life
you’ll see me there
*
he barely made it out alive
*
she let them cut her face open
into her flesh
my blood
and reshape her
bastardise her face
take my father away
self-exile
exile
it’s all the same
stitches
flooded
in my blood
*
I don’t want him on my face
*
She’d rather not resemble anyone
yet
*
she tore her page out of his book
*
you’re not writing one single word
*
she was never interested in what he wanted to say
what he had to say
what they wanted to kill inside of him
for good money
they taught her well
cut the father out of the daughter
silenced on his deathbed
the daughter wears a blank face
over an erased history
Croque-Melpomene 