Down upon a pale path draws the knife
Dull, sharp stinging pain the first the worst
The second even better, viscous pomegranate
Seeds of doubt pour out

I try not to scream and shout, closed lips
To the hurting in my heart
Brain holding my feelings in hands wringing
Wet with tears slippery salt mingling

The light comes in and out
Candle lighting itself from it's own smoke
Eyes open to find myself still here
I wish they didn't

In the morning I hear footsteps
And all they can say
Do you feel better?