The Haunting

This is just to ask,
When you cracked my head open
With your porous skin
And when the smoke whirled out
From your brown fingers

Did you know?
In that chaotic office
With the Venetian blinds
And that cross-eyed man looking down
Did you care?

Did you think, I could
Have been your only child
And that you're squashing me would ache?
That it would last,
Endure this long?

Your haunting worked.

You used pens as weapons
And spiked those who didn't agree

You blotted me
And it's been seeping ever since
You got me young, And this is just to say
the Indian ink won't wash out.