Hurt can hide in cells to well from time to time;
it can mould your cold corners
to fester, to fear, to turn criminal over the years.
Every shred of broken heart, from the city, mother and his past,
can outlive the skin.
Even when they threaten to whelm your walls
and burst out cold, you can’t hold your guard;
because the scar tissue is what creates the mark of your make
in honest, ugly, wiser paths laid out elaborate