India Zahra

we are the broken youth

that cut our own hearts to pieces

into perfect

sharp-edged

juicy cubes

(the razor blades of troubled minds are keen)

sometimes we don’t have blades 

so we claw and tear the tissue to shreds 

with ragged nails

and rotten teeth

lick the blood

from trembling fingers

chew the pieces 

spit them out

then regret

start over again 

until the pieces are too small to cut  

and we clutch the empty space in our chests

try to pick up the bloody mush 

stuff it back in

bandage what will be forever scarred

and never truly heal

but for some of us

it’s too late