Have you ever looked down
To examine your knuckles and palms
See cuts on your finger tips
You’ve never seen before.
Intersecting your fingerprint
Not quite deep enough to bleed
But deep enough to always catch
A slash of simple gore.
Never knowing how you lacerate
Or even when the wounds appeared?
Or who gave them to you?
Sharpened conditions you ignored
Did it happen to you by accident?
Did you do it to yourself?
Or was it someone you trusted?
To settle up the score?
Those scars will fade in time
Healing better with tended care;
But never quite dissipating
While you acquire more.
Wax Poetic by Julia Johnson 