Eternal Mental Cringe

i dunno where else to post this poem

Trimming the Moon:

I finally
Cut my nails.
I cut them the
Way I always
Cut them:
I wait until
They start
Scratching me,
And then I cut
Them down to
Their lunulae,
The white
Crescent part.

They are now
New moons;
Fresh and
Harmless,
Therefore weak.
No one and
No thing
Will get hurt
Tonight.

~ Alice