Don't belittle your pain. Don't bottle it up Unseen Unless small parts shove themselves out Like a collection of knives Inside a (breathing, living) carcass. When the knife Breaks through With its harsh, sharp gleam, Don't push it back in Deeper Or say it's nothing (with a pain(t)ed smile). I see the stains of denied blood Against the shine of cold steel. And if you say it's nothing How can I fix you?