I like to pick at scabs
see how much they bleed
when the blood is thick
I suck it up
the cavity of my skin
fills up once again
I press on it
and it petrifies
now the permanent scar
will remind me
how good the pain was
I picked at my mom
she warned me of the pain
but I didn't stop
her conscious bled
not yet she's dead
the scab appeared once again
anxious was I
but I didn't make her cry
when you stop a habit
the pain jars in your mind
it destroys memories
good and bad
created a scar
which love grows upon01.09
No comments:
Post a Comment