Hangnail
A Poem by Kelsey Edwards
Picked and pulled and plucked
from each of my
fingers bitten and bruised
Please never grow back
but they always do so I
pick and I pull and I pluck
and I pinch and I punch
myself to
make
me
stop.
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But I don’t know how.
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Please tell me how
tongues that aren’t mine move,
ears that shouldn’t hear do,
eyes that never saw have.
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All lies that cover the truth.
The past has passed
this too will pass
now let me pass- it’s past my time,
my bedtime.
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Ha! I’m stuck in bed now
let me sleep, I want to sleep
but my nails are bitten
and I’m starting to bleed.
I picked too much but it’s
not enough so I
look back at my—
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(Return to title)
A Statement by Kelsey Edwards on her process
I am an anxious person, that is no doubt. Bus rides, bike rides (but surprisingly not train rides), new people, familiar people, drain covers, conversations, the way I speak, the way I don't know how to behave around different people, options, my mum's health, taking care of my plants: these all fuel my anxiety. And they are all a part of my daily life. Hangnail explores my compulsive and erratic thoughts and behaviours that I really should change but never seem to be able to. I recently picked one of my hangnails, or whitlows, as my mum calls it, so much so that it tore a line down my pinkie and was swollen and red and weirdly glossy for days. Hangnail was written in distraction, to help me stop doing the things that I know are unhealthy but have become habit. Ironically enough, I started it on the bus and finished it whilst waiting to meet someone new.
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Read more of Kelsey's work on her website: www.kelseykayedwards.com
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