Dwelling and Swelling

I'm dwelling on the wounds that linger,
pointing at myself with my own finger.
Blaming past actions on todays ways,
bandaging and reviewing my past days.
Dwelling.
Swelling.
Bleeding over scars and new notions,
drinking the devils magical potions.
And I know I'm not dreaming,
listening to my past yelling and screaming.
Lingering the wounds I'm licking,
no understanding is sticking.

This, this is something I now do,
rebandage the wounds each review,
confront those that linger and dwell,
standing in silence just ringing a bell.
And like creatures hiding in a shadows night,
the lingering wounds come into my sight.
That is when I take care and caress,
comfort the wounds and of them redress,
redo the bandages and let them re-hide,
it's only in the silence they will confide.
Dwelling.
Swelling.
Blood stained my head,
damaged where thoughts are bred.