Cordolium
Perhaps you're apathetic to my ministrations
fatigued by my futile attempts at suturing
the suppurating wounds inflicted by others
who came before me much like those I suffer
both of our spirits bearing similar scars
Upon removing the bandages to reveal
they have not healed and rankle raw and red
I turn my head not in disgust at the pus
but so you won’t see the tears I shed
on account of my failure before binding them
once again in clean linen after applying a balm
of my best efforts that in spite of their sincerity
will never be enough thus my own injuries
I’ve clumsily dressed will continue to fester
and decay without the catholicon physic
of those three words you cannot say
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