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These scars,
Not a single one of them hurts.
Yes once, but the numbness reverts.

These scars,
I can touch them to remind me.
Yes once, but now it’s behind me.

These scars,
Disfigured skin says now I’m healed.
Yes once, that openness now sealed.

These scars,
Painful though what was hurt’s not there.
Yes once, its permanence laid bare.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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She bleeds in silence
Her thoughts constantly screeching in her head
She's in pain
Is it just another life's test
Or she refuses to heal her wounds?
Pieces are what makes you whole
Raven Nov 4
The wound on her heart,
but it has not healed.
It's still bleeding
hidden behind a layer of skin.

A smile on her face,
tears in her eyes,
she lies in the moonlight,
she traces her scars.

Her skin, it became so sensitive,
it bruises so easily.
Every wound turns into a scar,
but the pain reflects in her heart,
her ever hurting heart.

Now I can see her wound,
stopped denying it.
I want it to heal,
I want her to heal.

Come my child
hidden in darkness,
come sink into my welcoming embrace,
I want to shine light on you,
shine light on myself.
JDL Nov 3
Wounds heal and memories fade
But the price has already been paid

Self image and esteem crippled
Coalescing with your life it ripples

Loneliness and disparity take hold
Driving you further inward you fold

The weight you carry feels like a boulder
A gentle hand upon your shoulder

Eyes at the ground you didn’t see the light above
Your Father is there to show you His love

Relinquishing prior understanding you fold
To Your Lord, to whom you hold

Coalescing with your life Jesus’ Love ripples
Never again will you be crippled

For your pain and price Jesus has paid
Wounds heal and memories fade
Vania Irene Nov 2
i have seen too many women in my life
broken, bruised,
and wounded
by men who could not calm
their dck.
Mary Frances Oct 22
We tend to avoid things that can cause us pain.
If we are afraid to be wounded,
then why do we break hearts?
i feel like a beer bottle
that's been thrown against a concrete wall
in a fit of anger
shattering as it hits
the pieces fall to the ground
i fall
splinters of glass are embedded in my skin now
blood trickling down my arms
and from my heart
every breath feels like a war
blood falls to the floor
red paint on a ***** canvas
until it spells out "help"
sweat runs down the side of my face
onto my bedsheets
from wrestling the demons
i'm worn out
broken down
i just want the agony to end
i don't want to fight anymore
i smell of war
and blood
and pain
there are stab wounds
and bullet holes all through me
it all hurts so very much
i just want to be completely tranquil
and at ease for once
sage short Oct 16
This stream of my consciousness
Is brought to you by
The polluted wounds of
Unreconciled love for myself

I never rip Band-Aids off
Because I never put them on
I was too busy healing the scrapes
And bumps and bruises
On another person’s arm

When I stopped writing poetry
I found all my cuts
Buried deep under my skin
Into a layer of unforgiveness

Sometimes my heart can beat so fast
I begin to feel alive again
But I’m scared of what else I could feel
I had to accept the thought of feeling it all again

Rose water and palo santo can only go so far
When the deepest scars
Aren’t even visible

I’ve never been hurt more by
Anyone besides myself
I’ve never been loved more by
Anyone besides myself

And my hashtag self love routine
Isn’t always bubble baths and body positivity
It’s the analyzation of my human existence
Including my flaws and my worst characteristic
And sometimes I have to break my own heart
In order to become more than a wound
Benji James Sep 23
My nights consist of falling apart
On a d daily basis
That’s according to my thesis
On my own self evaluations
Keep getting caught in bad situations
This is an invitation
To not feel okay
Sometimes you just need to cry
Let it all out
In a form of sentences
Trying to express your emotion
What’s holding you down promoted
To this cause I am devoted
Left vulnerable and open

Bleeding and broken

©2018 Written By Benji James
Alexis Sep 16
I picked a wound open yet again,
It screamed at me hysterically:
How many times will you reopen me just for a stain!?
Until you bleed extensively.

The windmill still keeps on turning,
For now I shall confess,
The heart is drowning in yearning,
Making an awful mess.

But I find it appealing,
That mess of mine,
It means the healing,
Will soon start to shine.
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