HANDS

You used to ask me.. What does pain feel like?

You told me that there will come a time,

When we will feel the sun, but not know it as the sun,

Hear the wind, but not know it as the wind,

And our ribcages will open out like arms in front of us.

 

You used to ask me.. If pain was what happened when the wrong hands touched the right skin.

You told me that you were so scared inside your own head,

That you broke the chains around the feet of your demons,

And let them infest you just so they’d stop screaming.

But they will never stop screaming.

 

Now I get to watch you pull black lumps of insanity from your skull,

Two hands,

One hand,

No hands.

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