my wound opened at 17
young and naive little me
cherished each drop
fascinated at the way it bleeds.

it gradually grows and grows
seemingly sprouting against sunlight
each drop shining with the essence of life
becoming darker after every fight.

i was 18 and still, not healed
the wound still bled
screaming your name with pain
sometimes accompanied with tears i shed.

19 came, it still looked as fresh
almost covering my whole existence
it looked as if it's being retraced
and every single drop can be felt in its presence.

you, who have caused me this pain
you, who have caused me to bleed
you, who is blissfully unaware
when will you realize that you're the relief that i need?
© viaallune