Grinning scars of the wound,
carved in my flesh ,
Laughing long since the fall ,
By the edges of the crest,
not the burst of the rage,
nor the tears down the cheek ,
Little me down the curves
may not be what they seek ,
They are laughing they are yelling,
they are out to build a frame ,
Of the courage to let them laugh,
And moan out the pain,
From a old dent on the bump,
That's been smiling from a while ,
And trying to fade off the skin,
laughing a lopsided cry ,