A Book Of Poetry, The Mind Of A Child.

Finger

There is skin missing from my finger
It's not the pointer,
Pinky,
Or the ringer

It's the middle finger
Proud and true
The story of how the skin's missing from it
I'll now share to you

I was sharpening a pencil
Which was being problematic
I held the sharpener with such force
One would call me manic

With the force of my handling
My skin started to shift
It caused a bubble on the finger
One I was tempted to rip

Fast forwarding to when the sharpening was done
Teasing the bubble
I'd pinch it with the opposite pointer
And thumb

Later in the evening
When breathing was fair
I had a chill
For temptation was in the air

Staring at the bubble
My pinky going limp
I poked the bubble
The skin started to rip

Draining the air
The bubble was no more
Awoke in the morning
I felt my finger was sore

So now there is missing skin
On my middle, red and true
Continuously I peel it
Temptation's grasp still growing new

What once was a bubble
Is now a red dot
Not red from blood
But red from sore and an empty skin spot

So take it from me
Don't peel off your skin
The temptation may grow
With pain as it's twin

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