father's child

i think, sometimes, i am 

terrified of my own

capacity to hurt

those around me

its in the way my

tongue feels heavy in

my mouth, like it is

not my own

when words spill

off of it like spitfire

quicker than i can 

think

and the way the 

muscles in my arms 

and shoulders strain and protest

when i rip her sweater

off my back, like

they're screaming at me 

to stop, stop, just stop

i say my heart is fragile

and easily won over

and freely given

but how can it be anything

other than fortified if

my feelings consume my body like this

its as though the walls

slam shut on my own 

fingers, and in some 

twisted act of valiant

protection, i am reminded  

that i am more my 

father's child than 

i would care to admit

there is no malicious bone

in my body, but 

there is a violent streak 

that runs through my brain like a

livewire, and my body follows

its orders well

lock the doors

weld the walls shut

tape my mouth closed

while i scream in protest

my father's child indeed