Cuts

You know what I'm terrified of?
Cockroaches, lizards and sundry insects aside,
Love aside, loneliness and loss and death aside,
Failure aside,
You know what I'm truly afraid of?
Those sharp cuts, that slice straight through,
Deep and true,
So swift and sharp and sure,
You don't even know they're there.
Not until years later,
When you're bloodless and lifeless and dried out-
When you've slowly lost every bit of your essence,
Leaking through cuts you don't know you have.
Because you can't see them, feel them,
Because you can't see or feel emptiness.
Not until you're empty,
Not until it's too late.
I guess what I'm truly terrified of,
Is finding my cuts too late.

~Sam