What is it that makes me bleed profusely?
I search for this plank in my eye... sawdust?
Like the grains of sand and gravel, subtly,
We then subconsciously blink to adjust,
Avoiding an unfortunate sully.

Blood had spewed everywhere as if a splash!
Blinded and beneath waves of sultriness,
Boiling and cauterizing subtle wounds,
This juxtaposition of subtle pain.

Pain has always been subtle, always has.
Like the way your glasses broke into shards.
I have always known these fragments of glass.
Never blood, sand, gravel, sawdust, a plank.
But your subtle beautiful concussion.

A sonnet of how subtle one can be as they creep around your head and your heart. Enamored by their pain, you seek to comfort them with you yourself dying in agony.
 
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