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Concerning A Diary Found In The Woods

Of course
I'll put my arm in the wood chipper,
so sincere and professional,
my limb gone pulp in seconds,
boiled, pressed, dried into
a curious pink parchment,
bound into a journal
soon to be tattooed with middle school poetry,
declarations of secret love, and pictures
of unicorns. This little girl may practice
her future signature with
with this week's surname
but she's woven her parent's divorce,
her best friend's betrayal,
and her first period
into my very fiber.
Remember that
when you find me
dressed in her skin, for
I am only taking back
what is mine.

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