Poetry in Motion

Rainy Days in November

Just because the scars are not visible doesn't mean there not there.

Just because she decided not to play with fire and knives, doesn't mean that she stopped playing.

because guess what hers don't fade.

and you cant fix them with scar cream or band aids.

You see she was born with scars on her legs.

And every time she laid on her bed bleeding,

she thought about the man that was bleeding from the same scars,

the man who bled for her,

and she knew that if she ever purposefully put on new ones,

the man would bleed harder.

and She could never do that to him.

But that didn't stop her from playing.

She played the game that so many do,

she walked through the door

that others just look through.

The things that she has inflicted upon herself will never be spoken out loud,

or even written down.

But the scars that only she can see are a constant reminder.

others who play with fire and knives, look down upon her and scoff,

They are so small minded that they don't once stop to think that,

just because they cant see them, doesn't mean they don't exist.

This girl, the one who was born with scars on her legs,

the one who he bled for,

the girl who laid on the floor crying ,

begging the stars to save her,

begging the earth to open and swallow her,

Will never admit to having these scars.

Will never look, or talk, or act,

as though she has them.

But sometimes on rainy days in November,

The stars are able to see the thin white lines that she does,

and on those days,

They will bleed for her too.