I cut my hand on the bus today,

accidentally on purpose.

I cannot explain to you

how elated I was

and think you’d be able to fathom it.

I mean,

I was able to feel pain.

For those of you who

think this is about me being “emotionally numb“,

….

….

You’re wrong.

I am happy,

Finally…

Finally I feel a pain

I can do something about.

I can see it, touch it, and I can nurture it.

—

—

I rushed home,

instead of grabbing the alcohol,

I grabbed the peroxide,

Washed my hands twice,

and applied an even coat of Neosporin.

I dropped everything when I entered my room.

I laid on my bed, staring at in awe of my palm.

I cannot stop smiling.

Finally,

I have been hurt, but

I can do something about it.

I can see the wound,  putting a band-aid for comfort.

I can watch my bodies progression, as the new skin arrives,

reminding me that this pain is only temporary.

Overjoyed that I remember my blood is red and not black.

I guess you can say,

it cut me on the right hand,

but really…

it did.

This pain influenced this poem, so I took some advice and

I

Showed

My

Pain.

-Leighrick