Internal Bleeding

My mouth is an open wound.

It took sixteen years to scab over, but then I picked at it

So now it's bleeding secrets again.

I staple it shut when I leave for school in the morning

And the excess liquid forces its way out of my eyes,

Always at the worst times.

At least a nosebleed gets you a pass to the nurse.

Back home, in the bathroom, I pluck the metal bits out one by one

and vomit red onto the mirror.

The door is locked. I have plenty of time to clean up. 

Reviews

[Curtis.Lenker]

This is an intense piece. I know exactly how you feel. The imagery in this poem is amazing. I could literally see everything in my head. Keep up the good work.