Self taught sergeon
My hands must act, and the tools I have to use are attached to the very objective that needs repair.
How is it that I am supposed to remain steady and careful, when my hands are constantly painfully aware.
I will anylyze the damage to find what treatment I must manage, but the task is so great that it petrifies my state, at times I am forced to stop and to stare.
I have located the disease, but it is so much all over and right inside of there.
Self surgery can only be done in a way that is harshly, and maybe too painfully to actually bear.
If it is to be done, it must be a quick and swift insicion, a precise maticulous tear.
Mending, stitching, and patching has pains. The surgery has ended, all that is left is to tend the repair.
Later a pain familiarly felt afflicts me, and I wonder how is it possible that it is there.
An imperfect surgery, my sickness still curses me.
My hope, my belief, and my faith are all scared.
I'm afraid it is too deeply leaked inside me, beyond reach for my self taught surgical hands to repair.