BRUISED

 
Beaten and bruised
From the very start
In a world fallen
From its original glory

wounds printed
Like a brand upon my skin
Stained and burnt
Soon to Stop me from letting
people in.

But to give in
I point blankly refuse.
For the Scars are for
Learning
Not learning to hide.

My heart May move
From cold to fire,
Yet I will not retire.

Tears in the heart of the writer,
No tears in the eyes of reader,
not even a trace.

Forced to wear a smile on my face,
to cover up each bruise,
like ladies make-up.

My laughter will echo
around your mind.

But to my pain,
you will always be blind.