Broken glass slices a red warning
Old class awards act as barriers
Cards, Official Letters, receipts
Meaningless sheets of paper
I can never seem to throw anything away
I satiate my pulsing finger
With healing saliva and an old napkin
I watch the coagulation and wonder
Of the masterpiece of the human body
Why can’t souls heal like cuts?
The unhealed wound of my soul throbs a warning
Two year old memories act as barriers
Hurt, Pain, Deceit
Overused emotions
I can never seem to let these feelings go
I evaluate the situation
With tested reason and weathered logic
I explore the conclusion and marvel
Of the determination of the literary heart
Why can’t I stop my hand from discovering my soul’s hell?
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