Stark
All peel skin
Frayed edges
A thought quite
Polished
In the worser of ways.
I had rubbed raw the idea
And it had turned into a sorefar beyond blistering
The skin was chaffed.
Raw cut and open.
How many times did I have to weave
This thought through the coils of my brain
To bruise and defame
All of my sane?
I must have thought I was dreaming
To make such a terrible decision.