Casting my yarns of many colors in turns,
Hoping my yearning earns what I thirst for.
The fire took advantage—
Burnt fiercely, feeding on my resentment like hay.
Painful hatred made me its subject,
Letting fear delay the beat of my heart.

Through the flame, I saw only bloodshot reflections—
A version of me I barely recognized.
My nose flared, carrying anger down the walkway,
While deception dressed as truth passed by.

Why does the light shine on my shadowed scars?
Why does my retina reflect a bloodied knife?
Why can’t I sleep with my eyes closed
When even the sun can rest?

Am I healing, or dying?
Even if it’s only an echo
That dares to beat a drum and whisper healing—
Let it speak.
Maybe then, the vengeful color in my pupils
Will soften into something human again.

I just need one voice to reach deep,
To say:
“Your scars are proof you healed.”

do you still dress up your sadness
or have you seated it in the corner table
to eat with the children?
funny thing about tables and tears is
they get absorbed into the wood
because no one is going to notice the spill
in time to wipe you up.
it’ll just be an unsightly mark
where the wood swells with your sadness.

long gone are the insects
you forgave my dear
don't rent your heart out
to too many ghosts.

day after day it is the same thing
the cars drive on top of me
and the humans walk all over me
it hurts so much
the pressure and pain dig deep
until I crack and bleed
the working humans patch me up
but it does nothing to relieve the pain
the long expanse of body cries out in agony
it's the same thing
but I never get used to it
the cars yell and jeer at me
as they run me over
they take pleasure in my pain
why me
what did I do to deserve this
unless just existing targets me
for the torture I endure on the daily

Everyone has scars

It's what defines us

Sets us apart

'It makes you unique, ' They say

But you can't see my scars.

The battles I faced

The dragons I slayed

Every morning is harder then the last

Each smile is more strained

The mirror that once screamed

is silent

I look at the cuts

some deep

some not

but all invisible

unnoticed

In some way

I am like a scar

no matter how hard I try

how deep I go

I'm invisible

unnoticed

the time has come
where wearing shorts
is reasonable for the weather
but alas
i cannot participate
cuz of my scars
i'm not ashamed of them
but people will judge me
when they see the word
"die" carved into my thigh
pants will eventually become uncomfortable
but i will persevere through it
i like my scars
they're pretty to me
but others don't think that way
shorts season is here
but i cannot participate

They say beauty is pain
beauty it drips
in a red form of liquid that makes me sick
they say the scars last
well so will mine
maybe for awhile or a lifetime

All this life sought
Was in my feet forward,
Backing into stumble on rocks
With no path, life is an S curve

It hurts to fall hard
Worse yet
Is to not know why
I walked at all

A cool spring morning
In the rain with my canine on lead
Rushes into the glade
Where a doe may rest unaware

Still at old age I know, nothing
Every morning in the dark
My eyes open, for what?
I have lost all meaning of why

Are the next rising suns
Teachers on the green that
Remain after the snow melts
A reason for standing up?

I lost track of my dog in the meadow
As I listen to a poet who says
That tomatoes do not bleed
Is my life a fruit I can eat

Through the spring branches
I see a home below, pale yellow
A white door and a pane of glass
Asking, will I come forward more

An unknown, will I care to find out
Where is the deer and my dog
The door seductively beckons,
Walk this way with strong shoulders

Every day is an opening
For planting new things
Or letting the past burn to ash
Stunned in body and bones my trips to the ground

The knees and hands ******
And worn, as the apple skin
Holds a hole from the worm
I am the fruit as much as the scar that shines, happening now