A broken nail tale

Posted: June 15, 2016 in Poetry

I liken my life to a set of fingernails. Sometimes they are beautifully manicured; full of colour, free from imperfections and of equal length. Other times they are broken, the polish grown out, flaked and chipped.
I let them get worse and do nothing about it; the gap between cuticle and nail is a warning.
I might pick at them, aggravating the problem.
Ocasionally I might file a jagged edge.
It feels like they grow really fast and then suddenly, achingly slow.
In desperation, I gnaw at the skin around the nail.
This might solve the problem.
When my sabotage doesn’t work though, I cut them all off.
They are raw and touch sensitive but, the dead is cut away.
They still look horrible and then they only grow.
Their growth is tainted with unkempt. Eventually I have to accept intervention. Stripping bare to reveal the divots, the ridges and white clouds.
These can’t be painted over, they need time to repair.
While I wait I paint my toenails.
One day soon someone will save my fingernails.
Total overhaul,  they will be healthy and strong. A new colour a new shape.  Maybe one day they can be naked, bare and content.
Maybe I don’t need varnish to restore my faith.
I long for the day they are just there and free me from such constant maintenance.
I wish they could be pretty all of the time.


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