You don't even want it anymore.

The thing you used to love

More than anything else,

And you don't want it anymore.

Because it rips and tears at your heart,

Reopening wounds that only ever scab,

Only ever scab,

Never heal,

And you're so, so tired

Of holding still

Trying not to move what aches

But you flinch and you're bleeding again,

Crying again,

And your body hurts

And you know,

You know it would help if you took it back-

Oh it would hurt more at first

But in the long-run it would help-

But you could lose it again.

And you'd have to face

What the lack has done to your skill.

Better stay still.

Better stay silent.

Might as well stop crying.

No one is coming

Least of all to bring it back.