Stories in Scars


Written in the flesh of my wrists
Are lines of stories in the form of scars
Each tale written below my fists
Is another conflict of ours

Each line of these tales carved by a blade
The only friend I had on that night
Unlike memories, these will never fade
These stories of my plight

The cold steel upon warm skin
Tracing glistening letters of blood
Freeing me is my little pen, so razor thin
Taking the pain to make me feel good

The bite of steel lasts for only now
But tries to end my pain forever
My flesh always heals somehow
But the stories fade never

This one tells of the night we said goodbye
In the snow, oh, how I wanted it to end
Here is where you left me to die
And the blade was my only friend

I'm a book which only I can read
The lines like text upon a page
The stories when I tried to be freed
From all the pain, fear, and rage

Author's Notes/Comments: 

There isn't much to say about this other than what it says, so I will just leave it at that. Enjoy.

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SpecialSense's picture

I really hope this poem is

I really hope this poem is about the past, but I realize how hard it is sometimes to try to look on the nonexistant bright side.