Tell me what lies beneath in the realms of the not awake,
And of my forgotten scars of despairing heartache.
Those that are hidden deep and shielded inside,
Injuries gorged sanguinary, those that gape endlessly wide.
But yet those beasties embed often indelibly,
Their memories used often, and as foreign weaponry.
Broken records that mean to skip in the same root scratch,
Keep our ghost alive, so they can strike the torturing match.
Conserving me secured, in a living but numb hell,
Not knowing if its the agony or the acrid smell.
While remembering a touch from the one….
that still burns my skin.
Along with the hurts that lay larva, their new life itching to begin.
Deformed am I in anguish, letting the hopeless bugs crawl,
Crawling out of the cracks of sorrow, I watch helplessly in awe.
Resisting transformation to a beautiful broken creature, but I will succumb,
For it is inevitable, even as I hide, that I will triumph but regretfully overcome.