I wish I could say the scars fade,

The sunburn disappeared as I stepped into the shade.

But no— the scars stay pronounced; staying on my skin for the world to see ,

Taunting my conscious, taunting me.

And while they don’t jut out— they blend into my flesh,

They coat my surrounding, like a layer of mesh.

But instead of allowing my throat to tighten 

For my body to paralyze, for my senses to heighten,

I’ve trained myself to ignore the scars, letting them fade from red to pink,

Like a tactful author with invisible ink.

But the scars remain and alter me from the outside in,

My untainted idealistic self trying so hard to fight and win.

As the scars grow more numerous, my bare flesh becomes less,

In my closet of ugly oversized dresses, my one satin dress.

The question that remains, plaguing my mind 

Is whether these scars are evil or kind,

Do they cover my skin as an emblem for what I’ve been taught,

Or do they aim to destroy me, a fish that’s been caught.

When I put my rosy lenses on, these scars can transform into beautiful marks,

Representing my ambition, my ideas that come in sparks,

But when I take those lenses off, I’m left seeing the scars as they appear

Tarnishes on my young unscathed skin, unmasking my trepidation and fear.

I try to keep the rosy glasses on my face,

Blurring reality as I move with haste,

But every time my run slows to a walk,

Time slows down, and my body fills with shock.

Shock that I’ve moved so fast,

Allowing myself to burn and crash,

Creating a new scar- treating my body like trash.

While these scars remain, I can choose to no longer treat my body like a piece of art,

To nourish my body and exercise my heart.

The scars that are there can serve as a reminder,

Of the energy spent, the work that went into every single binder.

The scars won’t fade,

When I finally choose to step into the shade,

But I can protect myself from hurting once more,

From injuring my body, my mind, my core.

This time when I step into the sun, I’ll wear sunscreen and a hat,

I’ll look left and right, I’ll bring a map.

I won’t rely on only myself,

I’ll add more books to my shelf.

I’ll look at the scars and remember it all,

The times I cried and the times I stood tall.