SCISSORS
Perhaps my blade has been too sharp,
Sharpened by my present for my future,
And my past keeps telling me,
I have cut myself into loneliness,
I have utilized a gift to bring a curse,
And I can try to justify it,
That every line I split in two,
Was a road leading nowhere,
Perhaps my blade need not be blunt,
Yet, not every line must be split in two,
For there is beauty in their wholeness,
That can only be seen in letting it run its course,
Maybe I have yet to see where this goes,
And curiosity has killed me one too many times,
I am cautiously waiting for the satisfaction,
To prove to my wounded soul it is okay,
Perhaps my blade is tired,
Tired of cutting things off,
This everlasting season of pruning,
Feels like a desolate growth
I pray to be less the wielder of scissors,
Maybe this time, I don’t want to cut ties,
Maybe this time, I get the chance to carry this forward,
Maybe this time, I am a new connection,
Maybe I’m not.
~Frankhie
