The scars upon my flesh grow dull and pale,
A reminder, though faded, of a lesson learned or a fight endured.
The wounds within my soul remain raw, vivid, and tender.
If they could be seen, they would weep and bleed,
A stark contrast to the markings that decorate my skin.
A lover, a friend, a stranger, a shrink,
No matter their attempts to heal, I react
Like a cornered animal, resisting any aid.
Can I, like a wolf trapped by a bear trap,
Chew through my own memories to escape the pain,
Or will they remain, festering and new,
A constant reminder of the wounds that still bind me?