How strange

Endlessly tiresome, my thoughts return to my wound. Like a phantom, ghost of things of the past, it haunts me, returning eternally? I dare hope not!

And yet, I can feel it, pulsating, in my blood, in every word I hear and every step I take. Truly bizzare.

As if I were te blood itself, I can feel it going trough my body, into the hand, and out again. I can see it flow. I can feel it go. Pain returns, swells and lowers it strength. How ghastly.

I feel sick, all the while remembering older pain. The pain of the head, the crying, the numbness of the skull, the pain of the body itself. Like an invisible scar each event carries its waves throughout our life. Never we forget. Even nowadays I sometimes feel a tingling, a surge of remembrance, a memory stirring from the depths of the subconscious.

When I see it, I know it to be gone. But sight is not everything in this world. There are deeper powers at work here, nothing spritual, but the way of interaction remains a mystery yet.

What will come of it, remains to be seen.

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