where it's easy to be beautiful

seoyoung writes worst poetry ever (NOT CLICKBAIT!)

i. Do you know who you are?

On Fridays my father
volunteers at a kill shelter,
sitting with the dogs
on their last day. He leaves
trying hard not to think
about the needle, but
in the cages he becomes
a dealer. He knows
it's not his job
to save anyone.

At home, my father
sits on the back porch,
thoughts racing
like greyhounds.
He tells me he doesn't know
if he can keep going.
I tell him to stay,
but he doesn't.