I would cut off my fingers,
the part that points, blames
someone other than myself,
but my hands would remain,
and they initiate the motion.

So instead I will cut off my arms
in their entirety,
but then my breast remains,
the part that desires impurity.

Rather, I shall cut off my breast,
the part that desires to sin,
yet still desires will remain.

So I’ll cut off all of me from the waist up.
Though my feet remain intact,
the part that goes walking toward sin.

If I cut off one more thing,
I’ll be gone, no more of me
to bring pain to others.

Except the memory of what I’ve done.
So I guess I can’t do any chopping:
my imperfections make me whole.