TW: Self-Harm, Mental Health Struggles, Depression, Emotional Pain, Trauma, Battle with Inner Demons, Feelings of Shame and Guilt, Despair and Hopelessness
(I confess, my bond with myself and my scars is fraught, But on others, what seems abomination on me, Transforms into vines of flowers and tales, Each a testament to strength and character.So, for those adorned with scars, Know this: you are beautiful, uniquely special, Never let anyone diminish your radiance.)
Your skin without scars,
Would be like the sky without stars,
A story untold, a night without light,
A canvas untouched by the passage of night.
In each line and mark, a journey revealed,
A testament to wounds that have healed,
Beauty in battles, grace in the fight,
Scars that whisper, "I survived the night."
Without your scars, your tale incomplete,
Like a sky without stars, a world bittersweet,
Each scar a reminder of strength, not defeat,
In the tapestry of you, they're threads unique.
So wear them with pride, these stars on your skin,
For in their glimmer, true beauty begins,
Your skin without scars,
Would be like the sky without stars.
Yet here I stand with scars self-made,
A canvas marred by shadows and shade,
Each line a testament to battles within,
A struggle, a fight I could never win.
My scars, they don't shine like stars in the night,
They're reminders of darkness, devoid of light,
A map of despair etched deep in my skin,
A record of failures, of demons within.
Where yours are of strength, of battles fought brave,
Mine are of weakness, of a soul that caved,
I trace them with shame, with a heart full of pain,
For they speak of my torment, a relentless chain.
Each mark is a memory, a moment of loss,
A scar is a tally of the lines I've crossed,
There's no beauty in these, no story of might,
Just echoes of sorrow that haunt every night.
I wear them with shame, these marks of my strife,
For they tell of a struggle, a fractured life,
Your skin without scars, a sky without stars,
But mine are just wounds, like old rusted bars.
In the mirror, I see not a canvas divine,
But a battlefield marred by a war that's been mine,
A hopeless reminder of a fight never won,
A soul forever shadowed, deprived of the sun.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of the Unspoken
PoetryHere lies a collection of poems, scattered like leaves, shared in the hope that someone might find solace and know they are not alone in their turmoil. Beware, for these poems are not for the faint of heart; they arise from the darkest recesses of m...
