The steel gleams,
Tipped brown
with old bloodstains
And still
it remains,
That hole
in the wall
Empty as a
shell,
My hell,
Cut open where
the crimson well overflows
But there
is change
Hope for even
me
Now the knife
is dull,
Blood washed
away,
Emptiness
and closet space filled
Even my shell
can be broken
Even my woulds
can heal
There is change
Hope for even
me