My scars are hidden
by the dark fabric that clings
to my skin.
They come in many shapes
and different shades of pink and white.
They tell a story of pain and darkness,
anger and sorrow,
but mostly of fear and helplessness.
They hold all my secrets;
the secrets I’ll never tell.
They’ve watched me as I cried.
I cry because of them.
They remind me of the darker days.
When I’m smiling and finally feel happy,
they’re there to remind me that
no matter how hard I try to change,
my life is still ****** up.