I rip my heart in two,

Dip a thumb inside and feel

It soak blood of wounds bygone;

Wounds that forgot to bleed.

I pull my finger out and behold

Pale flesh smothered in brown;

I silently thank Santa, as I

Stare at the cocoa crown.

Gifts are meant to give, but rarely

Does one elicit such tears

That barrel through your broken bars

And your scabby punctures pierce.

I've a thing against warm, dripping blood

Blood that's fresh out of school

Blood that drips onto the carpet red

In a terrible, tragic pool.

Blood that speaks of youth, young and riled

Blood that seethes and fumes and froths

Blood quite unlike the wretched relic

That's set my heart to rot.

And though it jars my eyes to see

I'm no longer a young man

It soothes me too, to know I slew

The wounds I couldn't stand.

I swirl my thumb in the setting sun;

And watch the brown blood glimmer

I've fought life's cuts, life's stabs, life's burns

I've come out as a winner.

And so, I let go of my sins

And all my wounds forget;

And with the Sun, my aching thumb

Let drown in hot chocolate.