Smiling

cracking and not stretching
not as my skin is meant to do.

as my mouth widens
the sting of tearing flesh
causes me to cringe

and the taste of cold metal
sinks into my tongue.

i keep licking my lip
thinking it will actually heal the wound
and quietly reassuring me that the wound still there
but it only serves to keep the wound fresh
and the taste of blood reminds me

of the drought inside my mind
manifesting itself in cracked
and bleeding lips

the sting of a pain i’ve done nothing to prevent
for my entire my life

it seems small enough
that i can pay no mind to it..
for a moment at least

but with laughter
comes the sharpest sting

with the smallest whisper
the taste returns again.

why can i never shake the pain

why don’t i ever prevent this from happening

plagued,
and darkened

i now realize
and fear my own inaction