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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #838490
unspeakable sorrow of life... this poem convays
How have I been cut by a light touch,
when the skin is still there?
I can feel the wound hurting so much,
but I can't find any scars anywhere.

The touch, hard to explain
is aiming at my heart.
The cut, somehow, it contains
every bit and piece of my body part.

The core inside, burning aflame
yet no water can soothe it down.
There is no one to blame
for the sorrow which casts a frown.

The pain so deep, can no one not see
that my skin is a costume.
And my face wears a mask, not free
Hiding behind it, is the gloom.

How long does it take to heal
without any air to breathe?
My thick skin, I can't peal
for if I did, it would cause my death.
© Copyright 2004 SilveryRose (kittymaniac84 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/838490-My-Wound