Back and forth,

Along my skin,

Shooting forward,

As I begin.

-

Down stroke one,

Up stroke two,

Coming away,

Splitting in two.

-

Pieces of being,

Drifting away,

Taking with them,

Pains of the day.

-

Down stroke three,

Up stroke four,

Not sure why,

I keep this chore.

-

Crimson comes,

So does pain,

But relief,

I also gain.

-

Down stroke five,

Up stroke six,

Passing away,

Yet causing to stick.

-

All my pain,

Flowing out,

Yet remains,

The reminder of doubt.

-

Down stroke seven,

Up stroke eight,

Constant wound,

Would seem my fate.

-

For though all,

My ache seems gone,

I know the lines,

Will be redrawn.

-

Down stroke nine,

Up stoke ten,

I see the scars,

And begin again…