The cuts in
my paper thin, paper skin
hold messages-
hollowly sliding towards my feet.
(the floor is farther down then you think)
Seems as if even I
bleed like you, bona fide.
The blind watch intently as
I give it all away.
slowly, as if time might make it stay.
Underneath it all could
show the world what it should
be if only it would
see.
