the burning, split open, back of my left ear

aware of the salt in the water, the breeze

catching me alone, the rattlings freeze

the empath curse, the neck hair raising fear

bruised on the frontline, we all live at war

sixth sense for the lies, rain storms in our knees

locked doors buzzing for all their missing keys

beneath the photos, the mantle glamor

the fire and ash, the holes in bathroom tile

open scars, fleshy wounds and polite smiles

a fresh paper cut, lemon juice stinging  

our matching grins, back molars worn by bile 

pull our strings, this crowd is yours to beguile 

this perfect family’s gone deaf, ringing