Buckets

I was wounded.
No one saw my injury.
I seemed
To them
Intact
Whole
And able.

So I tried to act
Unwounded.

I spoke as one
Able
To assure the world
I needed no help
And would be okay.

I was a healer
A wounded healer.

So I continued to heal.

But I also continued to
Bleed.
Buckets of blood
Which I emptied
So nobody would know
How grievously I was hurt.

A wounded healer
Would be disqualified
From healing.

I would rather die
Than be disqualified.

So I grit my teeth
Bit the bullet
And kept on
Keeping on.

Until I ran out of blood.