Come closer, look at them.
Some bright, some dull.
Scars.
They make me who I am but they are not my cloud.
These ridges of imperfection are better than any movie you'll watch, any book you read, or any story you'll hear.
You can touch them, go ahead get familiar, as I have.
Pain.
Love.
Lust.
History.
They will turn to dust someday.
But don't fret, you'll have some of your own.