A carving pen
It's in my hand
The carving pen
It draws to me
Towards my arm
The tip it kisses
It kisses my arm
Its gentle stroke
It strokes my arm
I see the blood
Blood from my arm
Where is the pain?
The outward pain
I feel nothing
But inward pain
A new scar over the old
A story a many been told
Labels: Misery
