They come from any place,
Not just only one,
They seem to have their own face,
Some people just seem done,
Some scars come from childhood,
Scraping knees,
On the streets if the neighborhood,
Or large stings from bees,
Some come from razorblades,
Dragged across a wrist or thigh,
When a person's hope fades,
And they can't do anything but cry,
Some reside in the head,
Messing up real feelings,
Making the only friend a bed,
Not finding any healings,
Some come from disease,
The bald heads and surgeries,
When all one utters is a tiny wheeze,
All they ask is please,
Life will give you many,
Despite any reason,
Just accept them;
They're war medals and battle scars.
YOU ARE READING
Little Writings From A Little Person
PoetryThis is a collection of little writings and poems that I've written. They range in any subject possible. I just write whenever I'm bored, so I've decided to share them with people other than my close friends. I hope you like them. ❤
