A scar is a lost battle,
Clean skin is one won.
A battle does not lose the war,
But how can war ever be won
When you are fighting yourself?
For it as though
Your mind has declared war
Upon your happiness
And no matter of thinking
Can set it right.
Whenever there is a good moment
A minute,
An hour,
A day,
Even a week,
You always think,
"Maybe it is done now.
Perhaps I have won."
And then the moment ends,
The sadness come roaring back with
A Hail Mary pass and
All that happiness,
Joy,
And self-esteem
Built up in that time when all was well,
That comes crashing down upon the floor,
Shattered more easily than an iPhone screen
Upon the ground.
There is no victory,
There is no loss,
Only a slow, painful endurance
And the hope,
This sliver of radiant light that keeps us alive,
That one day,
Some day soon,
Life shall go back
To its happy place,
As it was before,
And the flowers shall be flowers,
Not roses devoid of their petals,
Only the thorns left to
Stick you skin.