It's funny, it doesn't hurt when it happens. It's just numbing, then when it drips down, you notice the damage. But, it's only the next morning that it rubs on your clothing, it stings with every touch. It burns when you think about it. It's a constant reminder of what you do. It doesn't help to think about it. You'd rather just have it heal over night, and not have to worry about others seeing, or wincing when someone brushed against you in the hallway, too rushed to think about the damage. You know it has consequences, but, there is no way to control when you do it. It just comes. It comes and pierces, and consumes. It has nothing to it in the beginning, then it's is there.
A constant reminder of why.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry And Broken Lines
PuisiThis book does not get updates frequently. It is for my own personal use, and I warn those who read this. This is a book of poems, story ideas, and other writings. Enjoy!
