if words can convey emotion

then words dictate life

tangled shapes, put together on a page,

sounds that fall out

of mouths like sighs,

form the basis

of who we are.

and so she practiced with these words,

learned how to use them,

control them,

scribbling on her hands on the train,

until the carbon dioxide she breathed out was

replaced by poetry

and her blood became prose.

but somewhere along the line

those words she so depended on were

turned into weapons,

sharp edged knives that cut her skin

until those words

were translated into paragraphs on her wrists.