Let's break the rules (and the spine... and the back...)
and say to hell with "Daddy didn't want me", and
"Mama didn't love me," and know you're beautiful
in a way like angels with one missing wing, or
crushed butterflies that still flutter on the ground
when the wind blows hard.
I am a little girl inside, holding a hundred valentines
that I am too shy to mail. You're the mean boy
who'd rather pull my hair and hit me with rocks,
or threaten me with cigarette burns when I explain
I don't want to be loved like that.
You make me sad, and my scarred arms show it.