Some memories hurt, like rain on the skin,
Soaking me deep, seeping within.
Some strike like lightning, fierce and loud,
Leaving behind scars I carry proud.

But not all scars are born from pain—
Some come from laughter, sunshine, rain.
A smile once shared, a hand held tight,
Leaves marks just as real, though soft and light.

We often remember the wounds that sting,
But joy leaves fingerprints on everything.
Like grip marks etched from love’s embrace,
They stay through time, they hold their place.

So when the sorrow calls your name,
Look closer—joy walks just the same.
To live is to feel—both rise and fall,
Each moment matters, big or small.

A flat line means silence, an end to the fight,
But life lives in motion—in dark and in light.
So I’ll treasure the scars, both gentle and deep,
For they tell the story I’m destined to keep.