wearing thin and soaked in blood,
the bandage on my wound
must be replaced.
it was never enough
yet the loop recurs once more,
for the illusion of treatment
is all i’ve ever had
and all that’s in reach.
tearing it off,
i turn away from my infected trauma,
the layered acerbic lacerations,
and repeat the cycle anew
waiting for the sweet relief
that will never come.