I watch my hands as they begin to burn
watch as mother takes a cleaver to chop
as mother takes the cleaver to cut off
these hands that catch on fire burn with desire
chop off my hands for stealing from her purse
her purse money used for video games
my hands burn as mother cuts them right off
yes mother loves me enough to hurt me
hands are useless things attached at the wrist
as she holds the cleaver over each hand
never flinching as I do begging her
do not cut off my hands mother as tears
shed away the respect she has for me
ask her yourself she has forgotten all
simply silly to remember the past
tell her I remember she will deny
hands above the cutting board with cleaver
ever ready to fall chop chop she says
yes just like the red queen off with your hands
begging was of no use if I let her
even demanded she cut off my hands
gaining power in speech and the delight
in seeing her suffer as she made me
negotiate my very existence
take my hands please add them to the curry
over lamb biryani chop chop mother
burning to attract attention her son
under the influence of alcohol
remember the alcoholic father
no no let him rest in peace the deceased
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