to the part of me named Failure,

i wish i could say it has been a while

since You wrestled me with cuffs and chains

and hanged me by my restless heart.

sometimes i try to forget about You 

yet during Your short-lived vacations

i always find a postcard with my name

scrawled on the front, the message

a middle finger: did you think you could 

get rid of Me that easily?

as the tornado that upends whole cities

and the tsunami whose wave thrusts me

into an abyss, the deepest chasm

Your wrath whistles the hymn of destruction: 

but of all the bottom-dwelling monsters,

You are the one i fear the most. 

i splinter, i fragment into shards

of mirrored glass sharp enough

to cut and kill, but not sharp enough

to un-etch Your imprint from my skin.

how can i accept You as part of me

when You carried a needle and thread

sewing Yourself stitch by stitch 

displacing me in Your wake.

i cannot wear You as a badge of honor,

because no matter how many humans 

You took pieces from, i want no part. 

i am writing to You as You have come to me

the “i regret to inform you”s and ‘i’m sorry”s

the routine excuses and nomadic hearts

that i have long ceased to care for.

i am writing to tell You that the more You stay,

the less i even exist at all.