4The first was just a scratch,
A simple accident,
Small but not quite gone.
The second was a cut of little size,
A personal sorrow,
Larger but not the worst of them.
The next was a bit deeper,
A loss that hurt,
The stitches are still visible.
The fourth was a large rip,
Harsh words said in anger,
It's still healing and not yet a scar.
The fifth was a rent so deep,
A scream of sorrow,
That I wonder if it will ever heal.
These are each a part of me.
Some wounds faded, others still fresh,
Still dripping scarlet tears.
I carry them and the memories,
both intertwined,
Around.
Look at me,
You'll see a smile and life.
Look deeper,
And you'll see into me.
You'll see the joy, the laughter,
Music, life, love.
All the good.
But you'll see the bad,
The dirt, grime, dried blood,
Anger, hate.
Like the good it leaves it's mark.
The good are memories, tokens of the past,
sights, sounds, and light.
The bad are the cuts that separate
Each sweet scene.
These are the scars on my heart.