They aren't just scars.
They are the demons
I fought at 3 am.
They are my insecurities,
my deepest fears,
and my lonely nights.
They are the insults I have received and the
emotions I cant contain.
They are a part of me
and are what I have become.

and I didn't want to
fall for you
because falling only leads to
scraped knees and
****** bandages

but I enjoyed the beautiful
sunrises that appeared on my
legs and hands
and I kept begging for more
forbidden pain until I was
numb to you

but the amount of scars left on my
canvas of a body today couldn't
add up to the regret I
felt for not having
fallen
hard
enough.

You could paint the grief from your heart, on your forehead. And people would suddenly close their eyes, and tell you to pull your cap down, a little lower.

Writing to relieve this void,
But you're the cancer,
You're more than a void,
The heart break,
The three am screaming into a pillow,
The sobbing that racks my body,
Your abandonment has consumed me,
My words were suppose to make it better, but they're all jumbled broken pieces of 26 letters shoved and combined, into what was suppose to be a goodbye, but dad I made a shrine, out of this nothingness, I wish you would've been a part of my life.