Wound Up Poems - Poems about Wound Up

The wound that never heals but continues to grow

Skin broken cannot be repaired 
Healing is possible but trauma stays their
Invisible to those with a privileged eye
Visible to those who still ache and cry
Skin will cover what the heart won't show
A pain felt by those who know
What it was like to be named ghetto

Time can heal but what if it don't 
When the glue

In my father's garment, I wear nobility, I wear a wound of light

In my father's garment, I wear nobility, I wear a wound of light,
When dusk descends, reflection opens its secret gates,
In the boxes of parallel illusions, the shadows of destiny are drawn,
I detach a little from oblivion, following the warmth that keeps my steps alive.
Countless springs weave their essence in battles of vitality,
From his honesty, I

Where Nothing Happens

here, between myself and myself,
God dwells when 
He flees the world.
I found Him once
in a forgotten loaf of bread 
on the steps of a hospice,
in an old woman asking forgiveness
for simply living.

He did not ask who I am.
He touched my brow
and retreated back into the wound.

we do not think.
we defend ourselves from thoughts
as from a

Time Heals Heartbroken Souls

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"Time is the wisest counsellor of all.” Pericles
**************************************************************

                                  Time Heals Heartbroken Souls

        

When God Remaind Silent

Your words, a double-edged sword,
Sometimes pierce like an arrow's chord,
Other times, they surface like a wound,
Leaving scars that forever resound.

Every step, like shifting sands,
I walked, veiled, with heart in hands,
Through your streets, where complaints did turn,
To hatred's form, and love did burn.

The whispers of our home's demise,
Scattered like leaves, with fading sighs,
I doubt your words,

SELF-INFLICTED WOUND

Like a storm trapped in her chest
she moved in circles
footsteps restless
heart pounding louder than thought.

She had lived inside a lie
vowed to love through anything
clung to promises already crumbling
made peace with pain to feel something.

When dawn rose, it lit the truth
the smiles were masks
the kisses rehearsed, and yet, she stayed
not for love, but for the hope

Samantha

I wonder what I'd be like if you had loved me
As a mother myself, a friend, and spouse
If your love had stretched like branches of a tree
But I still keep your picture at the entrance of my house
 
She's the Samantha before you had to take life by the handles
The Samantha before you were consumed,

The Wound II

The scab is gone
The scar not quite so vivid
No more clawing to relive the pain
No more needing to feel again
The wound is nearly healed

Through delicate care
And careful protection
And through considerations plenty
The urge to reopen 
To feel the blood flow
Has been replaced by a desire to heal

Yet I can't protect it forever
Rmeinders of you are everywhere
They

The Wound

The wound is fresh
The pain so raw
Seems like it will never heal
As I cling to the thought
Of what might have been

As healing starts
Panic replaces pain
Scrambling to pick the scab 
To feel the blood flow 
The wound is fresh again

It keeps trying to heal
But I'm afraid to forget
To let go of the hurt 
I need it

Picking at Scabs - Apr 9

—it’s the black boil on bursting, boiling ribs—
on my midleft chest, brewing bungled churns,
[tighteningmybreath], again, again, it yearns,
it begs*, “just one (just two) more (well-earned) rub(s)!”

—giving in, it’s just picking at the scabs—
first brief relief(      ):the itch at once returns 
as soon’s the finger’s left the welt; it burns
and gnaws

Old Wound

A decade wearing you 
like a cast
And all I have to show
Is that no 
one ever taught me to 
be a friend

A Fatal Wound

I hold my heart in my hand
carved out off my chest with a machete,
My bleeding heart still beats!

Pedestal

3/2/35 03:19

I glorify men 
Placing them high on a pedestal 
Where my father fell short
The bar is in hell 
And the bare minimum are the crumbs I live off 
Satiated from nothing and empty promises
An illusion of fullness 
As I see myself in half
As I saw myself in half 
As I stand here with a

Wound

How many heartbreaking wounds,  
Though it may not be visible on the outside.  
one day the wound should be opened,  
Otherwise, the pus all over the body will spread.

The “orphanage” is what the pus implies,  
It silently torments my heart within.  
Seeing the children with smiles in their eyes, 

My Primordial Wound

Taken away at birth...
Damaged to human touch...
So I don't like to feel much...
Me and my primordial wound.

I have a hole in my chest...
one that food, sex and drugs cannot sate...
so please don't embrace me unless you can relate...
to me and my primordial wound!

You say you don't see color...
but to you I'm still just another...
and you

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