It's what I know

In a more vanquished move I sided with father,  
and decided this time to cut sister's face from her mouth;  
to her cheek,  
apparently; I ought to have stabbed farther,  
yet the noise illuminated the room with rainbow tones,  
I sweated; like a fucking pig,  
How coarse, a sow  
   
And the bleeding thing could be felt downstairs, mother told,  
drip,  
drip,  
drip,  
On blood of old,  
   
Who next I prissy,  
‘take your choice in this world my boy’, I hear  
There are non without my smile left!  
Silly..  
But I won't find regular work from carving smiles.