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?