My dad always told me I was beautiful,
But inside I never thought the words were useful.
I would never truly believe what he would say,
But I would carry on with life anyway.
They shine on my skin like a brand new dime,
More and more appear, as we go through time.
Even though sometimes I’m forgetful,
It’s my scars that make me beautiful.
There have been nights I wanted it to end,
Stop breathing, so my heart can mend.
I know I can control my actions,
But sometimes my feelings deserve reactions.
They each represent a different memory,
On their own, they are my enemy.
One from a time, one from a place,
Each time I relive them on my face.
People cringe when they look,
I just keep smiling like it wasn’t my happiness they just took.
Even though my words might not be musical,
I know it’s my scars that make me beautiful.