I'm covered in scars,
each has its significance,
each has a meaning,
each is embedded in me,
each of them are from battles that I fought.
Some still oozes with red,
some are healing,
some have dried,
like a flower in the garden-
sitting in their respective chamber, waiting.
I can see them on my skin,
what a beauty they are,
yet what a bother,
they can be a sight to behold,
yet they are a disgust,
they are my achievements,
yet they are my failures,
their existence is hard to distinguish.
To numb them,
anesthesia is a must,
oh, how many bottles lying around,
how many I have thrown away,
the pungent smell of it,
gave a relief,
blood does not flow out,
oh, what a relief.
Yet, it is not enough,
they appear again, everyday,
it is like a process,
a cut-
bleed-
and then dry.
The healing of my scars,
such a wonderful feeling,
relief and coolness touched my skin,
my epidermis closing on the wound,
and slowly they all went away,
but for how long?-
till another comes along.
I looked at the sky,
and feel the breeze,
I thought to myself,
I could care less,
I'll let Him be my healer,
and laced my hands together,
as I looked at the clear blue sky.
