Feeling

Hurt, when bled from within,

is not a steady stream.

Like a dried-out paintbrush

relinquishing colours,

begrudgingly,

leaking blots of patterns --

Rorschach tests.

Decipher them. Or don't,

but keep the surface still,

let the pain leave.

Then, when the bristles soften

and the weary skin under your eyes aches,

drain the water, stain the brush with fresh paint

and try again.

The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2021. Day 22. Feel like I'm getting repetitive but I'm so close to the finish line!