Brain Spewings (My Poems)

The Scar

Clean new skin.

Taking the place of the old.

The broken.

The scrapes have healed.

The bones mended.

But remaining still, marring the skin, is one.

The scar.

It might never fade.

It'll stay.

To stare gloomily at you while you wish it was gone.

A grievous memento.

And there's nothing you can do.

But wish.

And remember.

Wish it was gone.

Faded.

So that you wouldn't have to remember.

Remember the pain.

The pain of receiving your infliction.

But you can't forget.

And you worry.

You worry that maybe you won't outgrow it or ever heal.

Remain forever a cripple.

Damaged.

Like the skin.

Yes, it's faded, but so is your spirit.

Your morale.

It's almost entirely gone.

Drifting through your pallid life.

Where has the meaning gone?

It's lost.

And so are you.