Scabs

Oh, Scabs who fell from my eyes.

How often do I fail to realize you’ve fallen to the ground.

And how often have I picked you back up when I do.

How often have I tried to slip you back into place.

You don’t fit the way you used to, to be sure.

But still, I try.

You don’t feel as conforming as you once were.

But still, I try.

Either my eyes have grown too large,

or you have shrunk too small.

You were never pleasant.

But apparently I’ve missed you.

Oh, Scabs who fell from my eyes.

I see you in my hands now.

Through tears which fall more freely now.

Is it okay for you to be left behind?

Is it okay if I gently place you back on the floor?

Is it okay if I forgive you?

Is it okay if this is our final parting?

Oh, Scabs who fell from my eyes.

Of course it’s okay.

Of course it’s okay.

—Until next time.

Oh, Scabs who fell from my eyes.