Then I got tired of begging
people to love me...

Maybe because you
were the first person...

"In the Caribbean, almost
everyone is a bastard child&quot...

The thing with writing
sad poems is, that one...

You're the first thing
I ever wanted to keep to myself...

They all mean well, I guess.
(or at least love to believe so...

That Friday, I walked
into the train station as lonely...

The other day, I cut my leg
and the blood was red...

I can't erase the
raised by women alone stain...

Like everyone who grew up
in abusive atmospheres do...

Even on my best days
it still finds me...

At the surface of
your being I am...