I stepped outside the door and the threshold snagged my jean. The winter world looked lovely, the cold seemed so serene. The clouds preserved, in blanched waves, the times that I remember. A barren mess now fully dressed that makes me love December.

It isn't right that I'm so teased for just a month or two. But wait a year through hate and fear, I will again think well of you.

I think there are some things
Of which a child should not be warned

Why place in them a mortal fear
That they need not yet learn

I remember the summer vacations
Spent at the ocean's side

Where I danced, splashed and dove
Never once thinking that it was cold

Now I return to the beach
And long for the good old fun

But I am held back
By the fear of believing it's too cold

I yearn to start over
To learn again in time

To live without fear
Of the small things that ruin me now

I want to run barefoot through the grass
But I can't let myself do so

I know too much
Of the dangers that may hide

These fears I have are often of situations
That probably won't happen

Yet I can't bring myself past
What I've been told that I now know

So don't ruin the kids
Let their wonder take control

Keep the world magical
Keep the fears at bay

My scars are simple, silly even
The result of shaving mishaps, stovetop altercations, mosquito bites, and the subsequent relentless scratching of said mosquito bites
These aren’t real scars
But I’ve seen true scars
I’ve seen that girl
The one whose mouth says she’s fine but whose eyes disagree
I’ve seen her, I’ve known her, and I’ve seen her real scars
Scars that aren’t simple
And not even close to silly
And intently watching her, I sit upon a wish:
That I could give her my scars instead.