We walk around with cut edges

I walk around like I am either on the edges of death .. or as if I am waiting for it to catch me when it falls ..

and wishing it come with a cough … and silence .. I wonder if this has to do with unkissed knees and knowing to early … how to put on bandaids yourself .. … from watching the passage between children and on swings and scrapped knees that get kissed and gentle hands placing it so perfectly .. this is how we learned to always fix ourselves through observation and I wonder if this is why I loved science … and equations .. and puzzles ..

why I wanted to a doctor . I cut my finger with scrissors … while cutting paper .. and there’s was so much blood so much blood .. and I cried and held in every wind pipe and I rain to the sink and rinsed and I attempted to glue my skin shut … as to not become such a trouble ….it’s sits a loom … I stare often .. at its shape ..