that which knaws

that which knaws at the soul sleeps alone
lives unseen under bleeding nail bitten fingers
if the heart is delicate the invisible mending is always visible
scar white despair scabs pulsing a self mutilation
nerve ends screaming "I" stripped down to self suspicious whispers
keep a journal obsessively & fall asleep
forget the pain

- See: Poetry

:: note :: ... that time of year ...

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