Blood and two pennies

At times
I've had to lick all your wounds clean
And not once did
I tell people how
Bitter your blood tastes

I've scratched your rash
Countlessly
And not once
Have I shown the world
The bits of broken
Skin left under my nails
Like I was out digging dirt
With my bare hands

I know what rotten flesh
Smells like
Something akin to burnt hope
Remaining behind
As you crawled to try and get way from the fire

I was there when you lit yourself on fire
I helped fan the flames
For you had convinced me
That the warmth this would bring,
Would be enough
To cover all those kids
Sleeping on the side
Of the road
Next to the church hall
Each night

I've heard your wails
So much so
I could visualize the anguish behind them vividly,
To an audience of tens
Of thousands
And one

It's so funny that
All the mirrors you've broken
Were held by I
And all the bruises you got from that
I've nursed as though I were trained
Cotton dipped in alcohol
Your teeth grinding could be heard all the way down the hall

Before you learned that fire burns
I handed you your first match
To teach you a lesson
If I could afford you a gallon
Of blood for breakfast
And two pennies to buy you lunch,
Daily
Wouldn't you say I made you?