Paper thin lines create a web like map
of pale scars scattered across my left arm.
They trace memories of hurt and mishap,
of Oizys tormenting my thoughts with harm.

The wound’s eyes are now closed that once wept blood,
once cried and stained my sleeves with their tears.
When people stare my heart begins to thud,
as I search in their eyes for signs of fear.

And although they fade, they never leave me,
they cling to me like clothes to sweaty skin.
Reminders of what I will never be,
of standards I keep hidden deep within.

I carved to find the beauty inside me,
I searched and searched but I came out empty.