25/11/13 Counting the Strikes

It was a therapeutic exercise
Thinking and striking them off
One after the other
Going through the moments of my life
Wondering what I did wrong
Wondering how I’d change it
But knowing there was nothing I could do to change it
It was history now
As the marks on the paper showed

But I continued thinking dwelling on it
Over and over the marks tore through the paper
So they jumped to my skin
Skin and ink
Over and over I would think
Wonder how to fix it
What would fix it
When would I fix it

The marks tore through the skin
The pen turned to blade
The sword was mightier
Ink replaces with blood
But the marks keep going
Over and over
Until someone fixes it

For me it is history
For someone it is a story
They will hear
And solve it’s problems
By fixing me
And crossing out the strikes


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