Cuts and Scrapes

Alyssa Maycan

I carry band aids with me everywhere

in case a sliver of my heart

or a mass of my mind

comes loose.

On days it begins to rain,

my band aids peel up at the edges, but I hold on.

Some days it starts to pour

but I am too poor to buy the waterproof kind.

I try to keep myself together, but I can’t hold on.

The rain beats down on me

as I lose my mind.

My heart breaks

as the thunder cracks my bones.

The lightning shocks my eyes,

as the storm paralyzes me.

Some days, though I try,

my hands slip like oil on rubber

I can’t hold on

and band aids are unable to hide my scars.