I want to bite down so hard
upon a diamond ring
that my front teeth shatter.
My molars were meant to grind together,
My tongue to curl up and wither
in the back of my throat.
My lungs have been trained
to take in more than they let out.
What an image it would be
to have blood leach out of my ears,
bleach pour from my eyes,
and secrets spew from my mouth as I die.
Can you imagine the surprise
when I decompose,
a pile of toxins and
temper tantrums and tragedy
that no one knew comprised my cells?
I don’t just want to chip a tooth.
I want to decimate the dentist’s work and
smile with bloody gums when someone asks me
how I feel about everything that’s happened.
I want to whisper so softly
it shatters their eardrums when I say,
“Look at what you did.”
“Look at what you made me.”
“You fed me blood diamonds that
tore my insides apart and
now I am here,
light glinting off the facets and
desperation in my eyes,
reveling in my ripped jeans and
slashed wrists and there is little left
here for me except the temptation of revenge.”
I want to paint the world
with the blood of my dreams and
use shards of my heart to shatter
my sixth grade teacher’s mirror.
I deserve to make them weep
with pity and guilt when
they look upon my brokenness and
realize I never stood a chance.