Battle Marks

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I’ve laughed so hard that my chest vocalized my lies.

And I lived for good byes, because they meant I didn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone anymore.

 

And sometimes I pulled smiles out of shriveled, brown grocery bags and sat them on our kitchen table, waiting for payment.

I’ve said sorry, looking for repentance, because its not that I had problems forgiving you,

it’s that I had problems forgiving myself.

 

I closed my eyes, because I couldn’t make eye contact, and I felt like every relationship ended in a contract

And I sat and wondered if one day my personality will not be bordered in my underlying mental disorders.

 

But it’s been months now since I tasted medication,  since I’ve thought every precipitation falling outside my bedroom window met that it was all ending soon.

And now I don’t pull smiles out of a hat---they just happen to be there.

 

Now the mask of my impurity is falling off, even if it means they can finally see my scars,

because I’ve traveled from earth to mars to get here,

And I’m not ashamed anymore.

 

And you have to remember that you are not a diagnosis or a medical prognosis,

because you are more beautiful than your battle marks,

whether they lay on top of your skin or under it.

 

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