An old infected, festering wound,
Hidden under bandages tightly wound.
Deep red gashes turned brown with dried up blood
Torn apart and with fresh blood did they flood.

The heart-stopping pain has never stopped has it?
Just merely distracted, though it was no simple feat.
And now that they have been ripped back open,
Hurting like hell, as if I've been plunged into the salty ocean.

When the red flashes fades into darkness,
When the pain transcends into numbness,

I thought, in that moment of clarity:

Have I not ripped those wounds with my own hands?
And drowned myself in that sea of utter despair.