ah, can’t get away from the songs:
Hurt: When I was little it meant a bloody knee
Or elbow, skinned scraped away, red showing
These days it’s internal, my heart, mind
Not unkind, I didn’t mean to be.
That road to hell
All of those good intentions
Not paying attention swirling into detention
It hurts me to hurt you, anyone
It stays with me for hours, days, weeks
It festers, like the bloody knee unattended
I’ve no enthusiasm for it, unlike others
I know them, placing a bullseye,
Pleased by the score
But it leaves my heart sore, so very sore.