My words finally exhausted, <br />and my pencil and notebook put away. <br />The thing I call my heart <br />finally quit bleeding <br />and my tears gone and dried up. <br />I've finally managed to put my knife back. <br />My matches hidden <br />and nearly forgotten. <br />I've come to an almost empty feeling. <br />But, <br />this whole ordeal has left me <br />exhausted and sore. <br />My legs sting <br />where I cut myself. <br />And my wrists hurt <br />from all the writing. <br />Everywhere <br />pricks and burns left from my knife. <br />And it's not going away. <br />I can't get comfortable, <br />and no matter how long I sleep <br />I'll always be tired. <br />Because <br />it's impossible <br />for a body, <br />much less mine, <br />to heal from all this trauma <br />overnight. <br />And before <br />the next night has arrived <br />more trauma will have insued. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Oct.-12-09<br /><br />Heart of Ice Die Die Die<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/can-t-heal-that-fast/
