A Map of Survival
These lines upon my skin, they speak,
In whispers soft, in voices bleak.
They tell a tale of battles fought,
Of chaos borne, of solace sought.
Each scar, a moment etched in time,
A chapter dark, yet still sublime.
A fleeting breath, a silent scream,
A fractured heart, a shattered dream.
But oh, the beauty scars can hold,
Not marks of shame, but tales retold.
Of nights endured and days survived,
Of finding strength to stay alive.
They’re constellations, stars aligned,
A map of where I’ve healed my mind.
Proof that the storm did not prevail,
That even wreckage tells a tale.
So let the world see what I’ve worn,
Not badges of defeat, but reborn.
For every scar, a truth revealed:
That I am here, and I am healed.
