Wounds

I should choose which scars you see,
But you’ve been inside every wound already.

Our eyes host the memories,
As our brains act as dilapidated storage bins for recycled angst.

You straddle the line of running away and diving in head-first,
A fall is coming though, both options are wrong.

The falsehoods of youth glaze over the sun,
A warm lie to say goodnight to under jagged stars.

A game of chance played by those with stolen tickets,
“Go for it”, they say because they know it’s not their fate.

Climb to the middle,
Save the top and bottom for the ones with crooked souls.

Through the cracks in the window you see where you lost your way.