My past is inked on my skin,
forever eschewed by the rivers of
jagged lines cutting across arms,
memories that once bled from my wrists,
all the while others
highlighted by the imperfections
that shine off-color offering up
variance to an intended
monotone skin.
My emotional scars lay beneath
throwing me off balance,
seen through the subtleties in my
actions that are characteristic of my past,
I wonder if my mirror reflects
those hidden thoughts, once buried,
and each time I wonder if I should just
remember to forget.


One thought on “Scars

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