Scars
I want someone who will trace the lines of my scars.
And tell me how their stories make me beautiful.
The contours of the shiny, tight flesh scream.
Scream out in anger, pain, and sorrow.
The junction where the scars meet weep.
Weep for lost childhood, the end of idealism.
That thick straight line looks more like neon sign.
Flashes "CANCER" angrily against the pale flesh.
I want someone who will trace the lines of my scars.
And tell me how their stories make me beautiful.
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