Wound
Sometimes I feel like a wound. Uncovered, exposed for the world to see my suffering.
I feel like a pus infected laceration with crusted edges of dried blood.
Sometimes the world around me does not understand my pain, therefore no one can offer help or a simple bandage to ease my agony.
It is not often, but sometimes my silence is my scream for comfort to heal what is invisible to them.
I have always been a wound, left naked and afraid. It is not a fatal blow so I have dragged myself through life leaving a trail of myself.
Voices-of-Nature 