It laid, just above the scratch
A darkened film covering naked flesh
Red and sore from the friction with soil
And a desperate try to cover up the mess
"It hurts" was all flesh could say
Crying the tears so so so red
Pulse was speaking high and fast
And warmth spread underneath
But the clot hardened and stayed there
Unknown of its coming fate
The day it healed with pinky flesh
It would then be scratched away
Or better it will go on its own
Even before you think to peel
Coming back when you trip again
Hardening itself to let you heal
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