You won’t notice my wounds,

but I am standing here, right beside you, bleeding…

And smiling, wiping tears off your face.

With all the muffled screams inside me,

boiling over, and nowhere to run.

There is no place for me to hide,

from myself.

…with my wounds.

…and all the other ones on the face of the earth,

and in your soul.

One less important than the other.

Just pray for the wounds to turn into scars,

to form a pattern, like on your grandma-knit mittens,

that make you smile.

…

Just smile.

MUSIC