just a tiny piece of flesh;
unwanted, painful, unnecessary.
I kept touching it as if
that would make it go away,
but instead I was only keeping
the agony alive.
if I could just stop
messing with it,
it would have healed itself –
but apparently
I have no willpower.
(like I needed a hangnail
to tell me that.)

finally I realized
that I could easily excise it
with a simple clip, banishing it
to the realm of things that
could no longer hurt me.

you’re like that hangnail.
now that I’ve taken out
the psychic scissors,
the emotional nail clippers,
and surgically removed
your useless remnant
from my heart, the wound
you left behind
can finally begin to heal.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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