Some of us carry wounds like fire on flesh melting
Blanketed with fear that suffocates you
I cant feel inside
I’m like Ice. Brick. Object.
Void of touch and sense
Wounds like broken glass cutting away at your insides
Sheltered with lies shaming your integrity
I can give it, love
But don’t know it
Wounds like poison killing you slowly
Covered with silence eating you from within
Its like I carry two men in me
One not living, inside only comes alive when I dance
I carry him like weight, dead
Wounds like bleach on coloreds eating away at you
Not reachable but wanting to touch
To be present and here
To laugh or cry to perceive emotion
I’m stone within
Crumbling but not moving
Shaking but not shaken
Wounds like chasms in rock
Covered with leaves that only shade, no protection
Needing to cry to be heard, to love
To know what it is.
Wounded.
Wounds like razors slicing away at your veins
Bandaged with shame, silence and lies
Some of us are Wounded Men
Wounded Man
10.26