Scars and Stripes

I kept a bottle
inside of my heart
where I put all the hurt
and hid all the dark.
I painted its sides
with the prettiest lies,
and smiled, as if
there was nothing to hide.
But this life takes a toll,
and my bottle got full,
until the glass started
to crack.
I felt the prettiness fade as
the paint peeled away, and
the ugly I covered
came back.

All the words that had hurt,
all the lies I had trusted,
they seeped through the cracks
and soon my heart was flooded.
I willed it to end, but
the darkness persisted,
and I could not let anyone
know it existed.
Hopeless and helpless,
I tried hard not to cry.
Then it stopped.

Suddenly.

One little stripe.

My bottle was patched.
The hurt stayed inside.
Nobody knew, and
I did not cry.
I felt happy again,
and I wanted to be.
I repainted my bottle
for the world to see.
But again, time went on,
no matter how hard I tried,
the hurt only stayed.
Three little stripes.

I thought I was fixed.
Three became five,
five became six.
Seven,
eight.
And I cried.
I lied, and told everyone
I was just fine.
Twenty-three little stripes
kept the ugly inside.

I grew numb to the hurt,
anger,
sadness, and
fear.
I accepted the heartbreak,
and thought it was clear
that the scars and the stripes,
they could be enough.
At least they would not hurt
the people I love.
I could protect the world
from all of the dark
if I just let the bottle
inside of my heart
break on me.

And it did.

And I bled,
but I lived.