made wrong

I am the crooked rod my father whittled

to thrash at the shadows of his own sad beginnings

carved with a dark, unforgiving intensity

absolutely against the grain

I struggle to not repeat his work with you

I make my own mistakes

I make you wrong

Despite how much I love you – because of how much I love you

I am carving flaws within you now that will undo you later

And all I can do is carry on

And hope to keep you safe beneath my broken wing for a little while longer

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