Weeping Wound
Life ain't no bed of roses
We're not destined to
drown in a pit of despair
Aguish is unknown until flesh
grazes a blade of barbed brair
A prickle that pricks
A nettle that nicks and
stings my gaping gore
A scab I scratch and pick
My heart...a naked sore
The pain of a plant's pike
Poison seeping through my pores
Miss Ivy takes her effect
Toxins causing lock jaw
Severed sinew plastered with rags
A slash sutured with cotton and thorns
Suffering through my misery
The tears begin to fall
Hard crust clogging my chest
Covering a fresh wound
that once formed
Blood caked over a cut
Creating a congealed blood cork
Fighting my inner demons
The tiger bears it's claws
Messing with the bulls emotions
I am the matador
Dismembered dreams it seems
that every memory is now torn
Present and future vines intertwine
The past pondered and warped
Mouths spew false truths
Profanity strewn on the floor
Ears sewn shut while lips sip
on a glass of gossips gall
The wizard chants
and casts a spell
A corpse is reborn
Here I sit on the edge of a cliff
While thoughts pace and
linger outside death's door
My brain is linched,
hung by a hurricane of thoughts
Head decapitated by a
sickle my mind is now
brutally butchered brawn
A bayonet thrusts into my side
An assassin attacks me with saws
Penetrating my beating benevolence
I'm punctured by grape-stained swords
I am nothing but a ragged ragdoll
A cast-away with an aching core
A strolling soldier
A wandering warrior
An outcast that was scorned
Copyright © Juno James | Year Posted 2023
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