Origami melancholy: a villanelle

Yes, my open wounds have felt the vinegar sting

No other could touch

They say pain is useless; pretend it's a paper crane.

 

My ache was an origami ball and chain

It really wasn't supposed to mean that much.

Yes, my open wounds have felt the vinegar sting.

 

My crying is mascara-ridden rain.

No one wants to witness such.

They say pain is useless; pretend it's a paper crane.

 

They must think I have something to gain,

But this melancholy is hardly a brand new crutch

Yes, my wounds have felt the vinegar sting.

 

It all came true when I sliced open a vein

Though life lit my fingertips when I reached to touch,

They say pain is useless; pretend it's a paper crane.

 

In those moments all motives in my eyes were slain,

There was nothing to hinder me from death's mean knock.

Yes, my open wounds have felt the vinegar sting:

They say pain is useless, pretend it's a paper crane.