Saturday, March 31, 2012

No sharp edges

There are no sharp edges
In this thing I feel
Just this blunt end of pain
I cannot cure for myself,
No shards of glass
The cuts of which
I can stitch up
To avoid the scars,
Just this dull ache
Ever erect, always poking
Me at times I least expect
Dragging me out
Of dreams of drowning
Shaking me out
Of my daytime haze
Expanding in my mind
Like an over inflated balloon
Waiting to pop,
With me, too much a coward
to do anything about it.

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