“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”
― Cormac McCarthy
On my shoulder there is a mark
A statue broken against it
It drew blood
as the feelings of jealousy washed over me.
My foot, I cut that as a child
playing games of innocence and laughter
Some scars make you smile.
That line under my lip
I ran into a fence hitchhiking
long roads and many songs brought back
The gash through my heart tho
that came from you
and a hopeless dream of being marked again.
— G A Rosenberg
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