It is a constant jab to the secret place inside all of us,
Once you sit in the chair and the tube is tied around your arm,
It is only the initial stick that hurts.
Once the needle is inside, the pain lessens,
And sometimes you can forget about it.
But that doesn't make the invasion into us go away.
It still haunts, anytime the tide of my mind goes to the secret place.
A smell, or laugh, or name, or place,
It seems as though you can never get away.
Maybe that is the answer.
So I will confront the needle, and pull it out,
Press cotton to the wound and bind it,
Then see if the flow has ebbed, as for me it most likely always does.
To hear those three, little words, makes such a large impact on how we feel.
