Ms. Misery

misery finds me
buried beneath paper
where I've made myself
another small scrap
not unlike the others

she lifts corners with
fingers like thin-bladed
swiss army knives
she's pretty on the outside
sharply wicked on the inside

her indiscriminate slices
do random damage
like paper cuts
I don't detect until later

I eat my words;
I am learning
to use invisible ink