A girl sat writing in the back of class,
her scared arm moving stedily.
A boy leaned over ,
gestered to her arm,
"What''s all that from?"
She looked up with distant eyes,
then back to the floor.
"Each cut tells a story,
the deepest, the saddest,
set back, I'll let them tell their tell,
of sad times and pain.
This is for the times
my mother was pissed.
I can still hear her words.
This one has many brothers.
This is for the times
he sounded like her.
The days my sweatheart
was maddest of all.
This is for the times
I hurt those I'm closest to
Even if I ment no harm.
This is for the times
I hurt someone I loved
who used to be more than a friend
It should have been deeper. "
She looked into his eyes,
" to be short
they're the saddest parts of my life
an addiction founded by depression."
"It you had only given it time,
you would have been fine.
And without those scars."
He told her surly.
"Time heals all wounds,
but they always leave a scar.
Yours aren't visible,
mine are."
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Submission Name: My Scars
