Scarred

Best I remember, it was Fourth of July

She was laughing as she slid down the waterslide

Jumping in, doing flips, making friends on the fly

I never would’ve guessed she held a secret inside

Then she held up her arm, and I noticed her scars

And my world tilted slowly as she said, “Life is hard

But I deal with the pain in the easiest way

Yeah, I know it’s not good but it helps day by day.”

I glance at her once and all that I see

Is an innocent girl at the age of thirteen

I never would’ve known about the pain in her heart

The abuse and the memories that tear her apart

But we talked late that night, in the mottled pool light

And we watched as the fireworks lit up the sky

And she said, “Do you see?  They’re a sign that we’re free

And I know that I’m not, but I wish I could be.”

Her story stayed with me, her scars all too real

Marking her fight to control what she feels

And my eyes have been opened; any person I meet

May be mentally drowning in waters too deep

Best I remember, it was Fourth of July

She smiled through her tears with her face to the sky

Desperate to be seen, to be heard, to be hugged

Her greatest desire was just to be loved