sackcloth

i am a good personi tell myselfi am a good personi feel remorseas i lead the kidto my knifeas i tenderly pullaway his peltit clings to his muscleslike a reluctant soulcleaned and cutwith a strict sober eyei am stitching the pathi took to get herei am stitching a way outcan you admire the wayi construct my guilthow i hide it in a coati took as my ownhow i feel every coarse memoryi am finding myself cryingfor what i have donei am finding myself crying