Scars are wounds that never heal.
Both in mind and body.
They are all too real.
The scars that define somebody.
The grooves and bulging veins of a burn.
The jagged stich pattern of a knife.
The craters speckling the skin from shrapnel and bullets.
The scars you may gather through life.
The screams that never leave.
Ghosts of a searing pain.
The many wounds that your body weaves.
Like a map full of stories you have sustained.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of Poems and Short Stories
Historia CortaMy mind is an ever growing tree of ideas and at the end of each branch lies a story... When I'm sad and feel like crying, I write. When I'm frustrated or stressed, I write. When I can't sleep, I write. Until my fingers cramp up and reality calls me...
