Marks of Pain

A stream of blood trickles down her face.
Unaware her bloodied finger smears the past across the keyboard
A Pause
A Flood of memories
Nervous habits hard to overcome
The long shadowy remnants of the past still digging new wounds
Maybe not consciously
But the fingers know
Unoccupied they dig and pull at the flesh
The bite of a thousand stings subtle scars on her flesh
Flesh abused by words and hate
Flesh tortured by her own hand
She curses the day she discovered pain on the outside masks pain on her inside

And still the blood stains
Marks of a new scar
Marks of an old wound

If only we could forget

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