Silence! I'm Brooding on the Inside.

In the blink of an eye and a twitch of the wrist the bandages are torn from their sores,
Which bleed out only a little, and stop and clot, and harden into coarse little scabs,
But for those instances they are worried, they believe their pain will be beckoned again,
And they wait impatiently, and when it returns no more they sigh and invite a prayer skyward.
They feel blessed and rewarded for this day, the day the pain finally has gone away,
And though the scar will always be there, they will never have to think on it till they see it again.
As the summers pass, and the winters too, and one or two, or three hundred moons,
The people will still have the telltale signs of the wounds they received so long ago,
And when chance has come, maybe in the bath, when they see such marks,
They will invite in the occurrances as though they happened, just this past spring or so,
They'll see gnashing teeth, and forceful fists, sometimes gun barrels, sometimes blades,
And they will invite a tear to enter, but they'll make sure the room looks un-inviting, in there,
And the tears will not come, afraid of the room, afraid to bother the ogre who resides inside.
Some though, it can be noted, are not as strong as this, they will pester themselves with memory,
And like a fly, it will be damned if it goes to far away, for just as you think it has, its in your eye,
So the people will let in the misery, they will invite it to flood back in, and they will want to share it,
With the other wounded souls, and those are stronger, may become weak, but those who are strongest,
Will never be swayed, they'll be annoyed, for they've built a wall, and they'll be damned if a fly tears it down,
So it'll go on, the strong and the meak, the mighty and the weak, they will live together in disharmony,
They will try as they will, and they will try as they might, and fights will break out, and rocks slung,
But the people will live, and create new wounds, because of rememberance of old ones,
Wars will break out, treaties will be signed, and uneasy peace will resign on over their heads,
Till that one wrong remark, that one broken step, on shattered glass, and eggshells,
And in this place both like heaven and hell the human race will reside, until the very day that they die.