IV. The Layering of Scar Tissue
A barbed wire chain six years long
slithers and writhes across every curve and every dip of my body,
covering all presence of life,
until nothing but metal remains.
With every word uttered,
with every sigh exhaled,
you tighten these cords around me, the barbs nestling deeper into my skin, and
finding a home in my old scars.
You're oblivious to my pain as you're blinded by your own.
But it's fine.
It doesn't hurt that much anymore.
YOU ARE READING
My Home Isn't My Safe Haven
شِعرI still make the mistake of lowering my defences. A short collection of prose.
