In the clear

War Paint 5/31/2013

Not every wound
Can be seen
And not every horror
Leaves a scar.

Every day I get up
And every day I carry on
But inside I am damaged
And this wound
Has never healed.

It’s as if
I was born asleep
And life’s injuries
Have awakened me
One cut at a time.

I was a day dreamer
Lost in my thoughts
Imagining possibilities
Where all I saw
Was rot.

Some of them were sharp
And some of them were blunt
But either way
The rocks cut and smash.

The worst are the ones
That you never see coming
In the middle of a day dream
When you guard is down.

Sudden, sharp, and painful
Is the stab in your back
Bringing you down to your knees
And gasping for breath.

Sometimes these wounds are fatal
And you bleed out on the ground
As death covers over your eyes
With wet black blanket.

How badly can we be wounded?
And yet still somehow survive
And how far can a man fall?
And yet still climb out.

I reached my hand back
And felt the gaping hole
Catching the blood
And smearing it
On my face.

Now I am full blooded
And now I am awake
Never to be the same again
More guarded, careful,
Vigilant, and aware.

But if safety is an illusion
Than what is there to fear?
Because all men must die
But only a handful
Ever live.

Now I am ready to cherish
All that remains
And I am willing
To give all
For what I have
And what is true.