for the first time I saw light
through the running blood
But the view is clearer now
I fear my life is short, I am too clean
Pus is the enemy. I smell it's work
The hope is so small and the healing so strong
I use remaining time bringing some pain
creeping to me, like an abscess.
New flesh is drying out my living space
Shrinking to hard crust my days are just black
I was a deep wound, but nothing I'm now
My feelings are weak and I'm going to die