It’s open

again.

A wound torn,

written

in blood.

I answer

with cries,

scorn,

pain.

There is no thought

just,

feeling.

Raw.

Simple.

Pure.

 

It’s closed

again.

A wound healed

sealed,

by time.

I answer

with laughter,

happiness,

smiles.

There is no thought

just,

feeling.

Raw.

Simple.

Pure.

 

I feel,

therefore,

I am.

I Feel

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