Ingrained Pain

I sat on the edge, tracing my palm,

a decision made in the hush, quiet and calm.

But sharp wood bit deep, a remnant of yore,

a splinter lodged firm, just like before.

Memories gnaw, like those knotted old beams,

that hold up the ceiling, weigh down on dreams.

Each twinge I feel pulls at my mind,

a whisper from shadows, the past intertwined.

Stubborn and small, yet painful as sin,

a prick from the past, rooted deep within.

I pull it out slow, feel it slide free,

an ache that remains, a part of me.