how strange
a wound that caused
so much agony
becomes a scab
flaking off
leaving nothing
but a patch of
fresh pink skin
hardly a scar
to remind of
the pain before it
just a phantom itch
where something
once so important
is now forgotten
replaced by
a thousand papercuts
inflamed with
these incipient new
temporary distractions
just a memory
buried in an avalanche
of calamitous revelations
a vestigial wound
in a storm of
dusty souldander