I guess it's time
to cover the scrapes;
to bandage my wounds,
and uncover my face.

I guess it's time
to toss the knives;
to cut my past,
and feel with my eyes.

I guess it's time
to wash the blood;
to run cold water,
to leave the tub.

I guess it's time
that I grow up;
that I bear my scars,
that I swallow the lump.

I guess it's time
that I use my hands
to thrust the blades-
not let them scratch.
 
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