Monday 3 am . . .
the little child
screams . . .
as rage
explodes from the depths
of my insides
and the urge to cut
my skin with a razor
grips my mind.
the little child shudders
from the pain . . .
but the blood from
the cut is little in
comparison to the deep wounds
on the insides suffered by
the little child.
as i walk with a
band-aid on my arm
i am reminded of the
much needed healing on
my insides
the little child
cries . . .
as the tears roll
down my cheeks . . .
Mary
Taken from The Cutting Edge archives