Kebiin

Wounds

Cut me if you wish

Blood may drip

But I’ll only get up to wash it.

Grip my shirt till it starts to rip

I’ll just grab a needle and thread.

Say what you want

My skin is made to be treaded.

I may look gaunt,

But my heart is guarded by brick

And good luck finding a chisel In this day and age

Where it takes more than a prick

To break my blockade.