In just three short lines, the speaker describes cutting into their own skin, hoping to take on the wounds of other people. The word "their" is never explained, so we don't know who these people are or what hurt them. That gap makes the poem feel raw and private, as if we've caught a confession mid-breath.
What the speaker feels seems to be a mix of deep empathy and helplessness. Self-harm becomes a kind of misguided offering: if the speaker can't heal someone else's pain, maybe they can at least share it, or carry it for them. The phrase "as mine" lands quietly but heavily, suggesting a wish to belong to someone's suffering rather than watch from the outside.
The title and subtitle add another layer. "Ancient Artifact" hints at something old and preserved, while "Cleaved" can mean both split apart and clinging together, which fits the poem's tension between separation and closeness. The lowercase "i" and spare lines create a hushed, sorrowful mood, tender but unsettling.