The Wound is a Disease

Never wounded, never shot

I brought something home

another way.

They called it healed,

rated at zero,

not worth a cent

for the time spent.

something laid hidden

Deep within, at an older

age it would rage

With no wound seen,

there’s “nothing here to see”…

truth laid in waiting

in my Dee in Aye

The wound is a disease,

ready to come out any day, in

Dee In Aye

With no wound seen,

there’s “nothing here to see”…

truth laid in wait in

altered Dee In Aye.

What my service sewed,

a strand of translocated

Dee In Aye.

Hidden deep beneath the skin,

a slow burning wick within.

Time divine,

but endings defined.

Nothing ever came

in a straight line.

With no wound seen,

there’s “nothing here to see”…

truth laid in wait in

altered Dee In Aye.