Misalign, by Keana Aguila Labra

Malignant growths are unmanageable, 

it cracks below the surface

and my hands spiral out of control

we’ll fill in the flaws with silence.

My eyes steer without consideration.

Though, I learn difficult truths

hoping to grow thicker skin,

(I flake under pressure.)

I do not benefit

out of this exchange

yet I linger,

yet I stay.