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Bloodstain Splatter Analysis.

There was indeed
a mean streak
in me as a child
and though I like to think

that I have successfully killed
it, buried it, sometimes I catch
it bleeding,
spoon-feeding,
poisoning everything.

Kicking dogs.
Fuck ’em: disobedient.
Threatening my sisters.
Such nature: unparalleled
in its insatiable
viciousness.

What was wrong
with me? Where, when
was this insatiable
rage seeded?

How dare
I let it dominate
me, shame me?

To what awesome depths
does this go inside
of me? How deep
can this slick, silver,
nano-sharpened blade slice
till I inevitably

see evidence
of bleeding?

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