how sharp the knife we call shame. i can think of nothing to dull its blade. the feeling may subside, it comes in waves. but this time is proving hard, i cannot withstand the pain. now it splits me in two, only myself to blame. the scars left behind each of them may fade. but how much damage can one body take? until it’s broken past return, too damage, too frayed. alone, will i make it? or will my body lay claim, and rest upon the familiar sharpness of shame.
