Smooth alabaster skin

Cut rugged with a knife

Edges forever raised

Crimson red teardrops

From the surface of something

Once so pure.

Pain of two

Blood of one

Unconnected

Yet completely twin

In their hurt.

This blood is not mine

Nevertheless I feel it

On my own skin, own

Existence.

The eyes that were once

Just as mine, perfectly young

And maturing every second

Are now cold and old

Realizing hurt that should not

Have been yours to shoulder.

A chain is now created

Because I am to you

As you are to me

As we are to the other

As we are to everyone else;

Your hurt is mine

Your hurt is theirs

But the pain you inflict

Is not above time