Honesty is pulled out of me like the nail I just pulled out of my tire.
Punctured.
Let out all the old air. Hit the ground. Useless. Unbalanced. Dangerous, even.
To tell the truth, to expose. Perhaps, like a splinter, only removal will heal.
I still feel sick over it. Maybe use my words to guide, to heal, to remedy.
Guilty. Refusing to hold on to shame. Or accept it from another.
But really. Nail's gone now.
Plug it up with appropriate material.
Refill with clean air.
Keep going.
No comments:
Post a Comment