Indefatigable
by [REDACTED]
Little tiny slivers of pine
Slide freely into these hands of mine
They fester and swell
I do not feel fine
But who can I tell?
To whom can I confess I am not well?
Swollen flesh is just a sign
Of fingers under an infection's spell.
The wood is now a part of me
Use a knife to cut it out
Call it sliverectomy
I try not to shout
At the searing pain.
Why won't you just give up?
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