Gingersnaps

I almost finished the sonnet challenge that I undertook instead of NaNoWriMo. But not quite--I'm four or five poems short. It was starting to be a chore instead of a fun exercise, so I'm not upset that I gave it up. Here's the one I wrote for November 17th:

Rabbit teeth slice harder than you'd realize.
But you do realize, when the blood comes out
so quickly, like a big birthday surprise.
Yet you look at your bleeding hand with doubt.

"Am I really leaking?" That's what you think.
And yes, you are. You are red and salty,
dripping like an artist's knocked-over ink.
You're a mistake. You didn't have to be.

Don't ever reach between fighting rabbits
with your helpful, bare, earnest, eager hand.
You should probably break other habits.
Snap yourself back. Be a good rubber band.

This is what you get for trying, my dear:
A hurt finger. Hurt feelings. A new fear.