some wounds bleed,
with the iron smell
and aching skin.
with the reddish swell
by paper thin.

some wounds bleed,
through the eyes that tell
i'm not okay,
fills up the well
with chardonnay.

some wounds bleed,
with stories of farewell
written in dark red ink,
with stories i don't wanna dwell
yet continue to sink.

but some wound,
they doesn't bleed.
no blood, no tears, no ink.

they are just inside your soul,
trapped. with no map
to get them out.

some wound,
they doesn't bleed
they are just stuck.
stacked, and could not
be removed at the back
of your mind.

some says that
wounds need to bleed
in order to heal.

and some wounds don't heal.

-- march 12, 2022 | 4:47 AM