The deep cuts

 

The cuts prune life 

The scrub of sandpaper

It hurts a lot sometimes 

To bring the sheen forth

The self inflicted wounds 

Hurt lesser somehow

Whether it is the injury then

Or our perceptiveness 

That decides the pain.

One may shed his burden

To these waters of lake

While someone may drown

In the infinite drops of eye

The cut that oozes the sap

Also triggers a new shoot.

Delhi

2182

20.09 hrs

15.12.24