Cutting or counsellingA Poem by GeeCoping mechanisms
He saw me staring,
both of his fore arms scar latticed, inch long, precision made, perfectly angled scars. I met his gaze, " what the f**k's all that ? " He smiled. Tom was a wee fella from Glasgow not given to idle chit chat, he turned up to work, did his bit, then off, away home. Today however was different. He let out a sigh, looked down at the scars, " Did this years ago, before cutting was fashionable " he paused, looked at the scars. " My wee boy was born not well, really ill, hung on for 6 months or so, then the wee fella died. They said I should go to counselling but for me it was less painful to do this" he nodded at his arms, "rather than talk to strangers. Now they're all I have to remind me of him, faded scars, though the one in here" he tapped his chest " that one'll never fade... never " © 2020 GeeAuthor's Note
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20 Reviews Added on October 24, 2018 Last Updated on June 13, 2020 Tags: Death, cutting, baby, bereavement AuthorGeeMilton keynes, United KingdomAboutDevoted family man and lover of life. Simply written, easily understood "stuff" for those without code breaking skills. You will NEVER need Google to understand me:) more..Writing
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