I’m opened up badly
I’m cut so deep
Too dull
I can remember being stitched up though
Apparently I forgot that too!
It seems that I tend to forget
Even my injuries
So much that I went in so hard, vigorously
Chest first!!!
Oh,
I’m hollow on the inside
It seems that I’ve been vacant
A fragile shell
A red room in my chest
Which red door is a thin layer of tender and soft skin
That started decaying
There is something wondrous still
The tissues are drawn so precisely and intricately
Haven’t they been inflamed and sore like they are
So puffed up, as if strangling each other out of air and blood-flow
I would have said that they are intertwined passionately
Dancing on fire, with love and life
To the rhythm of a lively heart
Beating
...
I used to be patched up
Or so I remember
I remember being taken care of
I remember being attended to
The memory is vague
A hazy vision clouded by uncertainty
I do not know
Have I forgotten again?
Have they gotten tired, those who were attending to me?
Have it all been a fantasy and no one was even here?
I think I used to patch-me-up
Perhaps it was me taking care of me
Oh, I’m so exhausted now
My stretched and stitched-up self is worn out
It is crumbling
Leaving me exposed
There are also these small cuts here and there,
They are everywhere, all over me!!
Inviting in these flesh-eating bacteria
Which have found in me a warm home
It is a fallen shell of a fallen soul
Damaged and torn,
Abandoned
! ! !
