deepundergroundpoetry.com
Scars
The scar on my knee I got when my mother pulled me out of the seat of a shopping cart and scraped my knee on part of the metal. I don’t remember it hurting, but I bet it bled a lot. Most shopping carts are plastic now.
The scar on my palm I got when I was about five, I had cut it on a toy of mine late at night. I don’t remember the toy. All I really remember was being at the hospital strapped to a bed and I couldn’t move; screaming to be let out. Those were the only stitches I ever got; two.
The scar on my wrist I got when I was jumping on a trampoline when I was about eight. It didn’t hurt. When my friend saw it he went screaming for his mother that I was bleeding. I thought he was over reacting.
The scar on my mind I got when Dad would blow up for no reason. It wasn’t too long before I wouldn’t ask for anything and go to great lengths to make sure there was no problem. The scar got bigger as I would lie to stay out of trouble. I still lie today, but not as much.
The scar on my heart I got when she called me out of the blue and said it was over. I had been planning to break up anyway, but it was going to be me who did it. She left me for him. It took a while, but that scar healed ok.
The scar on my worth I got when they fired me. I know I wasn’t doing that good anyway; I knew that. But to be looking for an excuse to get rid of me instead of just saying so was lame. That scar still bleeds a little when I pick at it.
There are other people who have bigger scars than me. Others only have one or two, but these are mine.
The scar on my palm I got when I was about five, I had cut it on a toy of mine late at night. I don’t remember the toy. All I really remember was being at the hospital strapped to a bed and I couldn’t move; screaming to be let out. Those were the only stitches I ever got; two.
The scar on my wrist I got when I was jumping on a trampoline when I was about eight. It didn’t hurt. When my friend saw it he went screaming for his mother that I was bleeding. I thought he was over reacting.
The scar on my mind I got when Dad would blow up for no reason. It wasn’t too long before I wouldn’t ask for anything and go to great lengths to make sure there was no problem. The scar got bigger as I would lie to stay out of trouble. I still lie today, but not as much.
The scar on my heart I got when she called me out of the blue and said it was over. I had been planning to break up anyway, but it was going to be me who did it. She left me for him. It took a while, but that scar healed ok.
The scar on my worth I got when they fired me. I know I wasn’t doing that good anyway; I knew that. But to be looking for an excuse to get rid of me instead of just saying so was lame. That scar still bleeds a little when I pick at it.
There are other people who have bigger scars than me. Others only have one or two, but these are mine.
Published 31st Aug 2016
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31st Aug 2016 9:35pm
The size or number of scars does not matter. How they've healed and how they feel to the person bearing them is the important thing. We all have scars. Thank you for sharing this. :)
Willow
Willow
31st Aug 2016 9:49pm
Anonymous
- Edited 31st Aug 2016 11:15pm
31st Aug 2016 10:14pm
Such a heartfelt write.
I could almost see each incident happening.
Scars don't bleed. They tend to linger. Certain words or even scents can bring something back to our remembrance. The ache at that moment..reminds us.
Another great piece. I adore your diversity. 💓
I could almost see each incident happening.
Scars don't bleed. They tend to linger. Certain words or even scents can bring something back to our remembrance. The ache at that moment..reminds us.
Another great piece. I adore your diversity. 💓
31st Aug 2016 10:39pm
I aim to diversify and continue to test ideas. Some work, some aren't as successful. Scars are unique to the bearer, almost an earned fingerprint. Each person carries their own. Thank you for your thoughts, they are valued.
