Blood on My Flesh:

Dying in this

Hollow shell

From where comes

My completeness?

I am not whole,

I am ripped and torn,

Battered and scarred

When does this tempest,

In which I am tossed end?

Why does it seem to go on,

Day after day,

Night after night?

The wind kicks and batters

As the rain pelts down

On my body, stinging

More than soothing

Pushing, pulsing over and through

Cleaning this


On my flesh