When they tear at you piece by piece
It's best to stand and find your peace
Even though your heart began to freeze
The last power you have to squeeze

Find your power
Or they'll devour
You within a hour
Let's make them sour

In the end we fight our battle
Don't let your world rattle
You're not the only one with scars
Look to the stars
There are millions of us
Broken and tired
Simply fired
We are wired
To tired  

So do your best
Forget the rest
Build your nest
And get some rest

Because tomorrow is another round
The power you found
To stick around
To stand your ground
They'll hear your sound

"Scabulous. Adjective.
Proud of a scar on your body,
which is an autograph
signed to you by a world
grateful for your continued willingness to play with her,
even when you don’t feel like it."
-The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

I am not afraid of scars;
They mean that I have chanced to live.

They mean that I have seen the world,
And the world has seen me.
That we have locked our gaze
Our eyes
Our wills in battle
Mortal combat
And it has blinked first.

They mean that I am a warrior.
They mean that I am a survivor.

They mean that I have healed,
Because scars come after wounds.
After we stitch closed
Our rips, and tears, and holes,
Patching ourselves up
Holding close our precious blood.

(Because a scar that still hurts
Means a fight unfinished.)

They are a warning.
They are a story.
They are a reminder.
Of love, and loss,
And life,
Beautiful life.

The moment when you catch a glimpse of death
Out of the corner of your eye.
And it sees you
And it nods
And you know it will come back
Someday
To collect.
But not today.
Because today
Today, you are the one who lives;

You said I was okay
I said I was, okay?
They heard I was okay

A funny order, it is

I believed
You when you
Told me that
I was okay when
You were not in my shoes
and neither were They

But when
I said I was not okay
You asked if I was sure,
Sure it would not pass
(because okay, is default?)
and they heard you, not me

So
Am I sure it won't pass?
No
I'm sure it will
Because everything does
What doesn't **** me
Makes me stronger

I love to stand in the rain,
let it pour.
I would welcome a tropical storm.

I love to stand in the rain,
because each drop that falls
gently onto my bare skin
takes away just a little bit of pain.

I love to stand in the rain,
when I was little I hoped that
if I stood in this shower long enough
I might melt and be washed away.

I love to stand in the rain,
because it is the closest thing
to being touched by God.

How long
will I keep finding myself
In only the pieces I've left behind?