Like A Military Coup

It’s a wound far deeper
Than the normal stab of a knife
A suicidal bomb
That keeps blowing at time fragments
It’s like a prickly porcupine…
Moving in my intestines cutting and pricking
Like a crafty chameleon, changing colours
The colours of pain it’s painting in my valves
Coating multiple layers with pointed brushes
Dressing up my system with this horrible pain
Its is destined to stay forever, destined never to go
Destined to keep me broken … never let me grow
I smash my head against the wall, fists against the mirror
Anything to get rid of it, the pain wont even quiver
Should I run in front of a truck? Or have daggers stabbed at my back?
What to do? To get this pain off my track?
It saturates my mind; like a military coup it takes over
Dictates my thoughts, my actions, my desire –
Against me – coercing my rebel platelets to conspire …