30-10-09

30-10-09
I may have boxed myself in
a little too much, these edges
are a little close, razorblades
on the walls that are closing in,
now grazing me and threatening…

I’m backing away but this room
is four walls and a roof covered
in sharp objects wherever I turn,
I’m bleeding now everywhere
and it’s only getting so much worse…

You can repair a body,
can you repair a mind?
You can stitch up the skin,
but how do you help a soul?
You can medicate a body,
Or cut out the bad parts,
Thread things back together,
Or even introduce new organs,
But does any of it matter if the soul
is disintegrating, if the head the body
is attached to doesn’t want to be?

You can’t repair a will to live,
You can’t cut out sick memories,
You can’t heal a soul that’s lost it will,
You can fix up the body again and again,
You can fix up the body for quite a while,
But the mind is different – and more so
is the will to live, you can’t just introduce,
implant a will to live in a brain,
It’s meant to be innate, but if you’re born
without it, you just can’t grasp it.