Scars

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Scars

My scars are my past
Written in pain
Sometimes only they
Keep me sane

My scars are my mistakes
And everyone can see
That these scars
Won't set me free

My scars are everywhere
Face, hands, legs, and arm
They remind me of times
When all I caused was harm

All my scars tell stories
Most of them bad
Looking back at my sinful life
Often drives me mad

But I can put it all behind me now
Because my scars no longer bleed
And these wonderful people came along
And it is me that they freed

They see my scars and they don't care
About all the pain I've made
Because they know that no matter what
They will not be betrayed

So my scars are my history
That I will never forget
But I haven't a single scar
That I will ever regret

Because my past is a teacher
A tutor, if you will,
And my scars tell me that
I have a life left to live still

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

Coxey292’s Poems (2)

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