sackcloth

i am a good person
i tell myself
i am a good person
i feel remorse
as i lead the kid
to my knife
as i tenderly pull
away his pelt
it clings to his muscles
like a reluctant soul
cleaned and cut
with a strict      sober eye

i am stitching the path
i took to get here
i am stitching a way out
can you admire the way
i construct my guilt
how i hide it in a coat
i took as my own
how i feel            every coarse memory
i am finding myself crying
for what i have done
i am finding myself crying