Dr. Sam

Dr. Sam

I see your pain quite clearly,
        on your arms,
        and legs,
but so rarely in your face.

I can see the lies
you try and tell me,
          in your eyes,
like you secretly want me to know
but don’t want to tell.

What a hell you must
be living in
to need to sew yourself back up
with your mom’s sewing kit.

Here comes Dr. Sam!
Thread and needle in hand,
thimble on your thumb.

The cut is numb,
          and deep.

You put on your scrubs,
and cheap latex doctor gloves
and stitch it back up.

Stat.

A masterpiece, a work of art,
proudly displayed,
painted with purpose, each line,
now covered by a band aid.

The scar you will have
was not meant to fade.