People always ask.
"Can I touch them?"
The scars.
The deep ones.
I always say yes.
I think their reactions are
Amusing.
The faux sadness in their eyes.
They don't really care.
They never did.
They are just shocked at the
Fact that I have so many.
Some stand out from a
Distance, and others,
You have to look closely to see.
White lines making intricate
Little tattoos into my skin,
Moving when I flex.
They don't care.
They pretend to,
But they don't.
Even with fresh ones.
They are just shocked,
Not worried.
Just disappointed,
Not caring.
m.r
101 words
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𝙋𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙝𝙨
Poetry1:48 am "And with every drop of rain that hits the earth, I can hear your soulful voice echoing through my mind. Calm whispers of the wind, crashing along the sea, calming my every nerve. You are the air in my lungs and the words I speak. You are my...
