I am a hunter
A detective
Searching for a killer
Mine
Me
My own.
My subconscious
Is a serial killer
A methodical
Maniac
Like a virus
Who kills the host
It's killed me thrice
Already.
I get sick
I get healed
I get sick again
Will this ever end?
Well eventually
I suppose
There won't be
Anymore
Coming back.
When will the next
Healing
Be the last?
When will the questions
Of my inner detective
Be the last mystery
To be solved
In a way that keeps
The killer down,
Or does he do more
Harm locked away
Because in jail
There is no transformation
Only the keeping
Of a caged animal
Planning the big break?
Pain, pain,
Go away…
Never come back
Another day!
Or am I doomed
To be the wounded
Healer?
Am I to be nothing
But a cliché?
I believe I am more
Than that…
I hope I am more
Than that…
But the muscles are
Creeping up my arm
In twisted knots
Are they my jailers?
My prisoners?
My healers?
Or messengers?
I am hunting
For the answer
I am a detective
Seeking the solution
I wish to be whole
Again.
