Damned poetry

I thought the wound
Had healed
Scar tissue now
Where once, raw flesh,

I thought the memory,
Lost, buried,
An autumnal leaf,
All power decayed,
Was gone.

How can it be, that
A line of poetry,
A word even,
Can revive the pain,
Twist again the
Long forgotten knife,
That once,
Plunged so deep?

And still does.

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