Wounds

Wound are like the places

Where a pulled tooth used to grow

The tongue is sorely tempted

Just to probe what’s down below

To taste metallic strangeness

Though at first there’s loss and fear

Exploring fleshy caverns

Where the tip might disappear

Its lure is so compelling

Though you school yourself to stop

But blindly you return there

To descend a further drop

Until to plunge down deeper

Like a drug, you can’t resist

To swim in its warm wombness

Draws your soul and begs a tryst

And once the habit holds you

Then your wound becomes your world

You crave its safe confinement,

To be in there tightly curled

Contained and comfort-seeking

It’s a refuge to descend

A chasm of contentment

That will nurse you like a friend

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