And it bleeds, I know my dear.
Pick up your weary head while I snap
these here shoulders back into place.
You need a sturdy body to support
such a beautiful brain.
Laughs and thick black aura,
why does it lie to you?
I shake my head
to rid the dark tease.
Constant questions I ask myself
and they itch my skin at night.
Tend to your wounds
and I'll hide mine.
I swear they don't hurt,
they just heal for you
under my sweater
in the dead of summer.
It is her calling. Her poetry appears on NationalPoetryMonth.ca.