Blades are cheap,

Again and again they cut,

And I scream and I scream.

It’s so remote, no turning back.

We’re off to see your grandmother,

They lied.

And they act like they’re so happy.

You’ll be beautiful, they say.

No-one talks about it, we all know.

Sometimes we don’t come back.

‘Why didn’t you just say no?’ he asks.

Like I knew, like I had any idea.

It’s easy for you. I spat. You don’t have to.

‘But if my wife, my sister, my daughter …’ He says.

What right have you, I say,

To try to walk in my shoes?

It’s too late now, you hold me down.

I don’t know how she did it,

Alert until she faints.

I shouldn’t have read this,

Shouldn’t have thought …

A gory trip through YouTube, I can’t stop.

It’s the not knowing that’s driven me here,

Or is it the knowing,

Knowing that my mother died?

And if I’d known, and if I know,

And if I could see, would I still?

And will my girl? What daughter?

My breasts are still untried,

Should I wait?

I choose the knife.