I find myself staring at her scars

I never thought I’d see battle wounds

So close to home;

I open my mouth to speak

To say anything at all

But it takes much more

Than just a few words

To stitch up a broken soul.


Alone in my room

I want to piece myself together

But I’m a combat medic without training

And I can’t carelessly toss out

Words like medication.


I pick up my guitar

And sing to myself;

Notes work like a needle

And I feel my heart putting itself

Back together.


I think that maybe

This is what she needs

This is what we all need

And this therapy,

This medication

Is what I need to give

For the rest of my life.



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