My Voice

my first aid

I don't write these

for you

(I'm sorry to say),

to be creative,

to pass the time,

or

because I love it

(though I do).

These poems

are pieces of thread,

and my pen

the needle,

meant to sew up

my wounds

and broken head,

meant to,

at the very least,

stop the blood

and the tears,

from pouring out.

They still dribble,

my sewing is not perfect,

but it's the

best thing I've got,

for now.