I used to bite my fingernails
because I liked the way they submitted
to the fury of my teeth
when the nerves kicked in
or the waiting consumed me
that the invasion made me feel weak.
The violence of my teeth on my fingernails
gave me strength.
And then a friend who was like the sun
to my sapling heart
said he thought it was a disgusting habit
and I had stopped.
I was not afraid of being weak
because this friend always made me feel weak
and he kept me waiting
and that was fine.
The violence of our friendship
took the place of my ravenous mouth.
And time had past, my nails grew longer,
and our friendship had remained as such
but I found something else
that had conquered me
and it was more brutal than anything
I’ve ever felt before.
I was ravaged and torn apart
and all the while, I was laughing and smiling,
submitting to this savagery so willingly.
It was like being born again.
And when I opened my eyes, I saw
a new family waiting for me.
The first breath I took was theirs.
This was not like my friend.
They did not make me wait
but they consumed me
and I thought my flesh must’ve tasted sweet.
I came back into this world as a nail.
The teeth of this clan
rend me and tear me asunder;
they reveal all that remain underneath.
That’s what I’ve been doing,
back in the my nail biting days,
cutting out the excess
and getting down to the core.
My past was teaching me something.
The disgusting habit of cutting out
what is not needed
all that remains
at the core.
**needs a lot of work, but it’s a starting point