Too clean,
No character,
A new heart would be,
So I mend my old one,
Stitching up the holes,
That I burnt myself,
It's our scars that tell us who we are,
Not the open wounds or undamaged skin,
It's the places we had to fix ourselves,
Where we made it through,
But we'll never forget,
That shape how we smile,
How we cry,
How we love,
How we hate,
So I can't get a new heart,
But I can make this one better,
And I have,
And I will carry on making it better,
Until I can present it to you with pride,
Instead of embarrassment.