In our youth
When we scraped our knees and elbows
Raw and red
We would run to our mothers
Frightened of the first taste of the attribute
That would haunt us like a shadow admist
Our grown up lives

Into the medicine cabinet she would reach
Placing soothing kisses over
our barely present wounds
Placing soft sticky Band-Aids on our scraped up limbs

It was a quick fix
Comfort and safety wrapped up into one
Paper packaged medicinal amenity
And each Band-Aid would make us yearn for more

An addiction it became so quickly
We became oversensitive to pain
One sharp tag and we went fumbling for the box
A peeling piece of skin
and the world was topsy turvy
Until it was covered and forgotten

When we finally felt
Real and jarring pain
The wrappers surrounded us
A mountain of useless snow
And all the Band-Aids would unstick
From the amount of blood seeping out of
Dagger cuts and bullet holes

And we go back to our youth
And remember when life was sweet like an August peach
And pain was something talked of movies and ghost stories
And we cry our salty tears
Begging to go back when a band aid could fix everything

And we wonder
When that power left
And this despair finally set in

The band aids unstick
And fall to the ground
Like we once did
In our youth
When we scraped our knees and elbows

Raw and red