I read and weep
and lose my balance
falling face first
into the hard pavement.
Do you want to see my scars?
They cover my once soft skin,
and I bear the shame
that they represent.
They do not stop there,
for my scars are more than skin deep.
My heart is cut and bleeds into my veins.
My lungs burn up into my throat.
My eyes are sore from straining to see
the beautiful parts of myself
- of my skin.
My muscles ache and my fingers cry in agony.
There is blood beneath my nails from scratching my body raw.
I was trying to find the beauty beneath my scars.
I couldn't find it.
