Sat, 01/31/2015 - 14:46 -- Bdacar

when you’re a kid, scars were like medals

you got them from falling off trees

and scratching your knees


we’d go to school the next day like

“hey, check this out, i got from

the neighbors dog!”


but they no longer mean what they used to.

they are no longer medals of achievements

but rather attributes to the fallen moments

in our character

scars these days  are self inflicted


we go to school the next day

hiding every part of ourselves we marked with cruelty

these scars are now just reminders

of how we messed up here




we live with the everyday war

between our minds and body

the war that we will either win

or die trying


but contrary to popular belief

there is no immediate relief

from the imprintment on our skin

of a blade thats digged in


we will not be held back by

our faulty moments

impulses of rage in the dead

of night

when everyone else is asleep

in bed


we read between the lines

embedded white veins coloring

the parts we marked with cruelty


we know that behind every scar

is a medal

that we survived

to fight again

another day


we know that if you look past

the angry white lines

you’ll see a story embedded within

the puffed up skin


a story of a hero that has had to save himself

times and time again

while still changing in a phone booth
keeping themselves a secret


the point is to not be held back

but rather to keep track

of our own regrets

so we won’t ever forget

Don’t feel bad for us

we are not the victims of our

own mentality


we are veterans


and we have the

scars to prove it



This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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