Surgery

by MortalWombat

Look at me.
Look at the flesh studded with angry scars.
Others have hurled their bodies into mine
Leaving a blur of pain, a burst of stars
Gone nova deep in the brain, a line
Of red confusion coiled around the spleen.
Have you not seen
The dark and curdled blood which saps my life,
This wound beneath the skin which seeks the knife
To set it free?
Look at me.
O God! I do not need
The sullen blacks and blues
Of yet another bruise.
Open me. Let me bleed.