Cuts and Scrapes
I carry band aids with me everywhere
in case a sliver of my heart
or a mass of my mind
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.