On a killing spree you’ve made a
skin of me. Settle down relax to see
if it fits ok. I don’t want it anyway,
there’s too many memories dressed up
as scars that even stars can’t heal,
and you’re far more wounded than me.
You need to graft your own wounds,
stop continually stitching them up
with slips of thread that just won’t hold.
Take my mold and add it to yours
and you won’t need to be afraid anymore. And I can be free too,
knowing I freed you.

~kb