You've got my nose, you've got my eyes.
When you smile, your teeth perfectly align
Like mine, your dimples are akin to the potholes
Of the road I refuse to take, if I do— I'll stumble hard.

In the remote hills, you might shiver and I shall hold
In the arms that couldn't when you were my weary daughter's daughter and cold.
In self-loathe, I spit...