There is no difference Between two years ago Etching deep tracks in my skin With a blade solid to the touch Smelling of bitter metal Joined soon with the similar reek Of the most ancient of sacrifices Welling from my split skin And me tonight—as I pound out these words On a battered laptop It smells of nothing so much as dust and heated plastic Yet it is the same
We all come to the point of letting go Yet in our naivety we hold on And in this battle with ourselves Wounds are inflicted Whether the choking upsurge of our bellies Or the stinging springs hiding in the corners of our eyes Or an oft-used blade tearing flesh Worst of all—the wreckage of a soul The battering of all things held dear And yet we fight too much Not to force the pain out But to embrace it closer
There is nothing natural in this quest To sink the talons of agony Ever deeper in our hearts Shake a burr loose Yes then burn it to ash But cling tight to smothering misery The truth is that we’d hold to anything Rather than face the storm outside And see the past washed away Yet while the storm may have no mercy It has no malice Nature is ever washed clean by the downpour
So we grow up and let go And we see that emptiness Isn’t always so bad