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Dre Brax Jul 2014
The word scars has always had a negative connotation behind it. A common name for Mental or Emotional injury is referred to as mental scars or emotional scars. Medically speaking scars or scarring is a step in the natural process your body undergoes to heal. Even though the healing is happening when a scar appears it tends to leave behind what some people see as an unattractive mark or area. Emotional scars and mental scars follow the same rules; a broken heart, the death of a friend or family member. All of these things can give us scars of some form. Having many scars myself I can relate with the desire to cover up or be rid of the unattractive areas on my body or in my life. It can become increasingly frustrating when those scars don't fade over time, or take longer to vanish then we hoped for. However this doesn't have to be a bad thing as quoted by a musical group AA-" How Stubborn are the scars when they won't fade away, or just a gentle reminder that now are better days".

I've had my fair share of "scars" whether emotional, mental, or physical. Each one has a different story, each one is riddled with wouldas, shouldas or I wish; but like the choices I've made to obtain them they are permanent. A Great example of scars as a story is the process of tattooing. Tattooing is the process to scar the skin by injecting ink into the second layer of skin causing it to be stained in the patterned it was scarred. People are in most cases proud of their tattoos, yet try to hide the natural tattoos of life. The body is a blank canvas when you’re born. Through trial and error we have been painted with life experience. Where I’m from scars are worn like the patches on a jacket. “I've been stabbed here or I've been shot there" is a badge of honor. Maimed knuckles were on the hands that lead us to adulthood. We grew up believing that our scars were how we were defined. If my face wasn't torn or my legs weren't spotted from the bruises then I’ll never fit in. Although it’s looking beyond the superficial, I was convinced we still were missing something. We were missing the beauty of those distorted knuckles, the grace in that scraped up knee. We never stopped to realize that we were actually bonding over our flawed skin instead of boasting about, "You should see the other guy".

We shouldn't hide behind the outcome of something that happened but instead smile that we learned from it. It took me a long time to realize just how special each blemish I carry truly was to me. When I look at my shin I don't see I fell and it was painful; I see my wife and I playing soccer and she juked right pass me scoring the winning goal. Something my grandmother always said to me, “You’re only as interesting as the scars you can smile at". For me that sums up things beautifully. Bad things happen to everyday people and even when that scar doesn't fade just remember that now are better days. I can successfully say I’m smiling because now these are truly better days.
this was a speech i wrote
Sjr1000 Apr 2014
I stopped
inside a light house
on a dark and foggy night
and in the beacon
in the fog
I saw far too many sights.

Lovers lost in their pasts
uncompleted tasks
of shoulda coulda wouldas
"If only's"
blocking their
paths.

The ferrel human beings
with eyes of gold
but no money
to buy a room
running to nowhere soon.

The poetry outlaws
with no words
left to sing
lost within their prisons
and know one knows
what they mean.

The beacon flashed
and in the light
I saw those
trapped in drudgery
and fading dreams
of being free.

And lonely souls
in darkened rooms
of four white walls
with no where to go
and no one coming that they know.

The beacon flashed
in that fog
the horn it rang
to no one listening
but the ships lost at sea
heard something
but asked themselves
was it really meant for me?

It
Spotlighted lovers
on the far sides
of the bed
their love lost
in what is now
misery and dread.

Wage slaves breathing toxic air
and what's this life for
their breath asks
captured in the foggy air.

Stopped at that lighthouse
to look out at that foggy sea
was all about the poetry
and what it means to me
a light
on a foggy
populated sea
and
life told in scenes
about
those who struggle to be free.
Auroleus Sep 2012
Presently living in a
Past that never was;
Dwelling on the
Wouldas Couldas and
Probably shouldn'ta beens;
Reliving old sins and
Reinventing new ones while
Repeating the same old formula
Over and over again.
The cellar dweller feeds on
Fantasies and nostalgia;
Only accepting food that tastes
Relatively similar to something he
Enjoyed when he was happy
Once upon a time.
A slave to the good old days...
And so long as he eats,
Any resemblance of future happiness
Remains locked away
Deep in the cellar-
Guarded fervently-
By the dweller.
Teenage Writer Jul 2013
I stare out of my window at the midnight street:
Desperate lovers roam back alleys, hoping one day they’ll meet.
Creeping shadows cast from dimming street lamps haunt the pathways;
Yawning teens sit awake typing up long overdue essays;
The dreams of the unsuccessful hang in the sky with the stars;
Drunken mugs trip over their own feet outside the city bars
A lone tree stands to attention in the middle of a frost bitten field
Fear ridden walkers use recycling bins and garden walls as shields

Workaholics typing themselves into oblivion
Athletes run laps hoping to become an Olympian
Stray cats and the heart wrenching cries of the homeless haunt the alleys
Holiday goers walk by torchlight through hundred year old valleys
Hopeful wannabes sing their shoulda coulda wouldas by the crack in the kerb
Whilst I sit… staring at the wall thinking of a perfect verb
Thomas Mar 2018
I sit and I query
Analyzing past mistakes
Until my eyes are to weary

Over and over
In my mind they play out
The couldas, shouldas,wouldas
What if I just went homes
Instead of stayed outs

The past is like your shadow
Beside you when you're high
Over you when you're low

Learn from it what you must
Have it guide your future
Teach you what to trust
Live for what matters
Not for what you lust

— The End —