Scars

Scars

Each mark a thing of art and beauty,
With individual memories or names.
Blemishes of mistakes, badges from duty,
Others small reminders of past shame.

Those outward worn as raiment,
Visible for the entire world to see.
Internal vestige more deep and private,
Observing outdated rules of propriety.

Distortion of once youthful skin,
Slightly discolored above the knee.
A bulbous mass below the shin,
Resulting from a bicycle flying free.

Faded tendrils spiraling on an arm,
Discoloration on a wrinkled elbow.
Exposing their individual charms,
From forgotten playgrounds long ago.

Inside mortal frames lay damaged souls,
Partnered hearts that once yearned to melt.
Unseen to naked eyes of this world,
Dear to the owner, old pain that was felt.

Scars are not scant eloquence of martyrdom,
Yet more often the sum of all of our parts.
Though some are whimsical and others maudlin,
As a collective they define who we are.

TAH