I began to participate
Yet the pain lingers
Like a paper cut
Or a rolled ankle
Inconvenient and agonising
In opposition
To the blade that plunged into my chest
At the tender age of 8
And the blade broke off
And I grew around it
But the sharp metal
Still resides inside
I began to participate
And it didn’t get easier
But I knew to dress my wounds
Instead of prodding
At the scar that protrudes over my lungs
And wondering
If I slice myself open
Once more
Perhaps it’d be the last time
I’d feel the breeze
On my insides