Picking at the wound

This poem started with the first line and just took on a life of it's own as it went on. There wasn't much attention paid to grammer or capitalization but I did that on purpose because I wanted it to be a more like a stream of thought, free of formality. Hop you enjoy!

i pick at the scab
that covers the wound
that never seems to heal
all the way
before I decide
to reopen the flesh
to revisit the pain
recalculate the hate
i feel for you
every time I see
the mark you left
for everyone to know
the power you had
over my life and heart
it is left as a reminder
to heart and my mind
to be more careful
who I let in
to the deepest parts of myself
and to not be so quick
to let down my guard
to an unperceived threat
others might pose
for hate can come hidden
in that Trojan love box
not everything is what it seems
because truth can be misleading
when it’s only half
the story being told
deception found
in what is left out
a lie so carefully crafted
out of lovely lines and praises
don’t cover the stench
it will leave behind
once it’s opened
a lasting memory
that only fades
with time and patience
long moments spent in silence
the world comes back together
the pieces put back
but rearranged
for a picture
that will never be the same