When someone tells you that you have wounded their soul you can't mend the wounds by denying or arguing you didn't.
Their soul, their wound... your conscience.

You left me with open wounds
Bleeding out, day by day
Here I am
Waiting for someone new
To apply pressure for me
As I am unable to save myself
But at the same time
Too scared to open up to anyone else...
My heart physically can’t handle
Another relapse
Too fragile,
Too broken,
Too much hurt
For one person
In their entire lifetime

I pick up the greatest achievements of human life,
I indulge my self in the richness of the poor and wounded by misfortune,
their aspirations become my motivation,
brick on brick,
victory after victory,
my aura gets invincible in time,
growing wise to realise the truth of life is in my dreams,
generation after generation,
the temple of dismissed potential,
my vengeance was not in the lack of love,
it was the peak of inner fame,
it was my chameleon personality,
define me but it doesn’t mean you understood what you defined.

no ripple
on glistening pond
bucolic greenery
greeted sweet mornings
like apple muffins
dusted with
spice

pathways through
rainforest's half-light
hushed cathedral
birdsong rang true
retrieved to senses
a lilting lullaby's melodic
notes

then machinery
of life's happenchance
seared through undergrowth
chainsaw's presence
halted paradise
lacerations on earth's
lungs

reverberations hit
tremors appear
reach beyond
borders coddled close
as things find a new
place to roost and
grow

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

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

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

These scars,
Painful though what was hurt’s not there.
Wounded,
Yes once, its permanence laid bare.