Sometimes, in the Car


Sometimes,
in the car, I
hoped we'd be
hit.

That my teeth
would fly out
my head,
bore holes in
your face.

Hoped that
I'd be hurt
badly, but not
disfigured.
If that was too
greedy, some-
times. I'd think,
okay, dead.

God, please
forgive me.
I can't help
thinking that
way.

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