Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Poetry Project,: v. 10.0, Day 13

blisters

on my hands,
torn skin letting the air get to the new underneath
burning, tightening,
twisting  my finger in upon themselves
the blisters that come from working with my hands
on a warm spring day,
dirty and uncomfortable,
but i can't stop,
won't stop for the pain,
because this needs to be done and now is the time I have to do it.
and though i may regret it tomorrow,
today is the day i have,
and i will not be stopped by blisters.


Thanks for reading,

Me

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