Casting my yarns of many colors in turns,
Hoping my yearning earns what I thirst for.
The fire took advantage—
Burnt fiercely, feeding on my resentment like hay.
Painful hatred made me its subject,
Letting fear delay the beat of my heart.
Through the flame, I saw only bloodshot reflections—
A version of me I barely recognized.
My nose flared, carrying anger down the walkway,
While deception dressed as truth passed by.
Why does the light shine on my shadowed scars?
Why does my retina reflect a bloodied knife?
Why can’t I sleep with my eyes closed
When even the sun can rest?
Am I healing, or dying?
Even if it’s only an echo
That dares to beat a drum and whisper healing—
Let it speak.
Maybe then, the vengeful color in my pupils
Will soften into something human again.
I just need one voice to reach deep,
To say:
“Your scars are proof you healed.”
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 3:18 PM UTC
Casting my yarns of many colors in turns,
Hoping my yearning earns what I thirst for.
The fire took advantage—
Burnt fiercely, feeding on my resentment like hay.
Painful hatred made me its subject,
Letting fear delay the beat of my heart.
Through the flame, I saw only bloodshot reflections—
A version of me I barely recognized.
My nose flared, carrying anger down the walkway,
While deception dressed as truth passed by.
Why does the light shine on my shadowed scars?
Why does my retina reflect a bloodied knife?
Why can’t I sleep with my eyes closed
When even the sun can rest?
Am I healing, or dying?
Even if it’s only an echo
That dares to beat a drum and whisper healing—
Let it speak.
Maybe then, the vengeful color in my pupils
Will soften into something human again.
I just need one voice to reach deep,
To say:
“Your scars are proof you healed.”
You are proof your scars healed and also your scars are proof you healed.
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