Utensils of my Making.

BEWARE THIS READ. THE SECOND PART IS GRAPHIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

In the hand of my mother, it was used to feed my brother.

In the hands of my father, it was given with soup when my sister was sick.

In the hands of my brother it was used to paint.

In the hands of my sister it was used to swirl her cereal when she couldn't fathom eating.

In the hands of my lover it was used to feed my ice cream.

In the hands of my enemy it was used to cut off my mothers fingers.

In the hands of my enemy it was used to stab out my fathers eye.

In the hands of my enemy it was used to break my brothers wrist.

In the hands of my enemy it was used to shove acid down my sisters throat.

In the hands of my enemy it was used to rip out the heart of my lover.

How I love spoons.

How I hate spoons.

How they bring memories of good times

and nightmares of the bad one.

Oh my enemy

What have you done?