The first time Dad punched me

The cup kicked over,
there was water on the floor beneath me.
Pour it upon, like when you used to bathe me as a child.
Let it slide over a bruised arm,
and a busted lip,
and tell me to clean it up when you're done.

I'm not crying because of the soap in my eyes

More from Amanda Gillick
Trending Posts
Rug-pulls, Rampant Fraud and the NFT Wasteland
Our Favourite SMPLE Films So far
The Rise of Analog Horror
The Many Lives Of Kanye West Pt. 2
Featured Music
Playing Next
Explore Music