yep

I slashed my arm on an unseen point.
It bled, and I forgot about it.
Who would care anyway?

It was just a cut, without despair.
No scream, no reason—
just something that happened.
It bled for a while, then it stopped,
like things do.

True, I am still here.
That part remains.
A fact more than a feeling.

The day moves forward without asking me,
and I move with it, somehow—
patched, quiet, unfinished,
still here,
and new only in the smallest sense
that time insists on calling tomorrow.