Cuts like Ice

It flows like ice through varicose veins.

Stings like jellyfish with lasting pain.

This blunt force trauma that feels so permanent.

Lacking love, grace, and time well spent.

My perspectives can change, so why can’t yours?

An oxymoron at best, but this is not my tour.

You should know by now that we all have a gut.

And feelings pour out of it like a clown or a klutz.

You can never feel what you can’t even perceive.

One feels nothing while the other one grieves.

They say we’re all connected like a commonwealth.

If that is the case, how can these feelings be stealth?

Can we genuinely grieve for the pain in their queue?

I can say it cuts through me. How about you?