Burdens

[aschueler]

It's better but of course revisions bring in other issues.

Revision 1:

I always felt a nervous hopeful flutter
buying razor blades and peroxide
at the local pharmacy but nobody
ever cared to ask why.  

I carved, slashed, crosshatched,
watched as rivulets ran down,
admired them, the wounds
sometimes dripping into paint,
leaving DNA in my creations.

My best work I left in a graveyard;
Done on a window pane it depicted a naked
rape victim cowering in the corner of a church floor.
Pews were made of razors, the last one breaking free
attacking the victim with its sharp blade.  Not goth now but more real, but wordy.  However I have to admit not sure how to reduce.  Window pane for real?

Chaotic and haphazard gashes were made
to my life’s soundtrack, Pink Floyd’s Ah Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb and its empty promises.  I relate but this is veers off too far I think.
“Comfortably Numb,” the scars
a reminder of ugliness so loud
my ears still ring now.

My poor tender wrists and arms.  There will be different opinions likely on this line but I really like it
You can't remember horrible pain exactly,
just that there was and it wasn’t from the cuts,
experiences like shadows that remain.

Maybe one day there will be enough light
from all directions to make the dark stains go away.
Scars won't matter and I won't be so tired
from being an ox in a yoke pulling a wagon
stacked with life sagas sliding and tipping askew.

A shadow cannot be chased, only unmade.I can't help but think that all this rdifficulty leads to greater strength like resistance training improves physical strength.


Original:

I always felt a nervous flutter
buying razor blades and peroxide
at the local pharmacy
but nobody ever batted an eye.

I carved, slashed, crosshatched--
watched as rivulets ran down,
admired them, the wounds
sometimes dripping into paint,
leaving DNA in my creations. 

My best work I left in a graveyard.

Had I known about scarification
I might have made designs instead of
chaotic and haphazard gashes, the scars
a reminder of ugliness so loud
my ears still ring now.

They say you can't remember pain.
True, you don't, just that there was,
but it is there like a shadow that remains.

Maybe one day there will be enough light
from all directions to make it go away.
The scars won't matter and I won't be so tired
from being an ox in a yoke.