Scars

Scars

Naeha Inapanuri

 

The scars that trail up my arm

Forged in the fires of my stupidity

No longer burn

No longer hurt

Merely a memory from the past

A churlish mistake that was made centuries ago

No longer burn

No longer hurt

The act which left the clean, white cabinets with an ashy hue

Left me with the ovals of darkness, stained on my skin

Which

No longer burn

No longer hurt

Left me with more than a reminder of my foolishness

They left me with a story to tell, the story of my scars

And how they

No longer burn

No longer hurt

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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