Anthology of dreams (drownedinwords) wrote, @ 2005-11-24 20:33:00

Burn

Just a small trickle and
No large pain.
I watch it grow
On the back of my hand,
The scarred place I know so well.

It isn't even an echo of
The old habit I swear to.

It won't clear me
Nearly so much

Of the sleepless dirt
I accumulate.

Little could clean me now.