Wood Shards & Infidelity To Self

*This was actually a speech that I had to write on an item that is important to me. What I wrote about ws a small piece of broken wood that i used to cut with. I am better now.


Wood Shards & Infidelity To Self

“We are creatures of the underworld; we can’t afford to be loved .”(Moulin Rouge/Zidler) The worthless are the least of these,
The keepers of poverty,
The ones that can’t pay the price for satisfaction.
The least of these that look to pain and torture,
Self inflicted agony,
Dysfunction,
Numbness,
I am one of those poor or,
I was,
All I had in the world was a dear friend.
Simple, secure,
One that couldn’t leave me as the rest had.
The most important possession of the time,
And a constant reminder of the past,
Of the places I will never return to and
I pray I will never again fall to.
A friend,
That knew it’s mark and still yearns
For the sweet taste of crimson.
Simple,
It fit perfectly between my fingers,
As if it’s wooden structure had been molded just for me,
Long before my intentions were even known to myself.
A wooden shard the length of my index finger,
Dull pointed… so the pain took work.
The work rid me of the frustration,
The blood of the tears I refused to cry.
When my wrists were finally ragged and bloody,
The skin puckered, painful;
When my chest had the word worthless marred into it
My friend would fall to meet the cold floor of my bathtub,
Leaving the remainders of it’s meal,
Swirling in the scalding water;
Staining my ankles.
You see…
This tiny piece of wood,
This thing so simple,
Brought me so much pain,
It took me to a place within myself;
A place that no one has been,
That no one has been invited into.
This dull shard has remained with me,
Never too far from reach.
Always close enough for me to fall back to.
This tiny thing is important to me for one reason,
I find it easier to keep the past with me,
Close enough to have to make the choice
To move on and forget who I was.