I share the same moon as my enemy,

but never the sun

because it burns.

Stuffed to the brim,

yet they continue to feed me—

and since they say,

‘never bite the hand that feeds you,’

I bite my own.

Every day is an interview,

I’ve got white knuckles

from hanging on for too long.

My miracle

is someone else’s tragedy,

but I’m against feeling guilty

most days.