Mar 29, 2013

Paper Cuts

A paper got wet
a smear of blue lines
I wanted it to be perfect
ashamed that it was mine

then the wound opened
and the singing song was born
o' how I gathered my coping
from fear of what was learned

the words became much clearer
more stronger every night
as comfort yearned nearer
with every grappling sight

so I continued this path
for Alcinoe tempered my kind
exposed- in a paper cut bath
unafraid the blood was mine


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