– Damaged Reflections –
There’s a splinter in me
that sits just below
the surface of my stability.
I am always so afraid
of wearing my heart upon my sleeve,
for fear that the sight of my blood
would cause you to take your leave of me.
My story is etched in the flesh by razor wire,
crawling through the space between
to reach the other side
of my private battlefield.
Perfection is a relative perspective;
I am blighted by the perception
of this damaged reflection.