you've got to count the tentacles

i haven't blood anymore but it still cuts, mummy, it cuts but now i bleed anger, i bleed that i am 32 not 22 don't try to pretend you didn't try to cover the knife, we all know the old gun in the pocket routine. i've gummed my shoes so i see through though these days we call it duct tape and stitches and still you draw your knife. you see nothing. 

i am not 22.

or maybe my mouth did not listen to my brain. it's not uncommon i'll admit. 

but you've had ten years. 

i am not 22. 

mummy, i am done with you.