“Untitled” 17

1 May 2020

Tiny scars across the surface

Invisible to anyone taking a quick glance

The tapestry of my life is in them

All the pains, sorrows, happiness is held in them

Some are solidly closed, and will not be reopened

Some are half healed, waiting for a well-placed word

The soft new skin waiting for the chance to reopen

When they reopen, they burn like they did when

The wound was still fresh, tearing me up

Burning me down on the inside

My surface is still untouched, but my insides have

Long ago turned into a fiery inferno of everything at all times

Everything hurts, everything burns, nothing is safe to touch

One day it will all end, and my body will turn in to a limp corpse

The end of my days will be the end of my weeping, anger, of my everything

When the day comes, I hope I can graciously accept

The warm, dark, peaceful slumber of death