time is a thing and it's useful
instead it becomes an excuse
a tree as a thing can be fruitful
everything down to the root
scars are a thing and they whisper
secrets from under the whisp
i always try to be truthful
but it gets in the way of my youth

some scars are severe
some indelibly permanent
some can be dangerously near

but what happened that year
has been pretty persistent
and yes, i wish you were here

yes, i wish i had nothing to do with it, and i wish i'd never have met you, but that's not true, i followed it through and i'm all for the better, umbrella, the shade from the sun that you shone that left sunburns that scream and cry and shame me for hating and scraping and flaking and breaking and making and hurting and trying to buy my way out of this...

but i can't, because otherwise it wouldn't be a scar, right?