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Nothing But A Memory (Day 33)
Old scars barely visible.
Not that I want them to heal,
at least not completely.
I want the memory of them.
The memory of who I was.
The girl that I have been.
Who I plan to never be again.
But I also do not want to forget.
These scars are not scarlet letters.
They are not marks of shame.
They are my past sprinkled out on my arms,
a mini story to the past of my life.
The life I've tried sharing.
With anyone willing to listen.
The girl that I have been,
and the transformation into
the girl that I have become.
33 days, no new cuts.
No new razors.
I am free of their curse.
They are simply an echo,
in the back of my mind.
Something that I once depended on,
but do not anymore.
They are nothing more but a memory,
of the girl I once was.
Cutter.
Wannabe.
Follower.
Dreamer.
Writer.
Poet.
Student.
Daughter.
Girlfriend.
Cheater.
Best friend.
Loser.
Winner.
Failure.
Healer.
Believer.
Victim.
Savior.
Everything that I have been.
All that I was once.
All that I will be.
Is nothing. . .
Nothing but a memory.
Some people are like diamonds.
You have to help them find a way to shine.
Not that I want them to heal,
at least not completely.
I want the memory of them.
The memory of who I was.
The girl that I have been.
Who I plan to never be again.
But I also do not want to forget.
These scars are not scarlet letters.
They are not marks of shame.
They are my past sprinkled out on my arms,
a mini story to the past of my life.
The life I've tried sharing.
With anyone willing to listen.
The girl that I have been,
and the transformation into
the girl that I have become.
33 days, no new cuts.
No new razors.
I am free of their curse.
They are simply an echo,
in the back of my mind.
Something that I once depended on,
but do not anymore.
They are nothing more but a memory,
of the girl I once was.
Cutter.
Wannabe.
Follower.
Dreamer.
Writer.
Poet.
Student.
Daughter.
Girlfriend.
Cheater.
Best friend.
Loser.
Winner.
Failure.
Healer.
Believer.
Victim.
Savior.
Everything that I have been.
All that I was once.
All that I will be.
Is nothing. . .
Nothing but a memory.
Some people are like diamonds.
You have to help them find a way to shine.
Published 5th Mar 2012
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6th Mar 2012 2:15pm
I had a conversation with a lady friend not too long ago about the scars she had. She hated them and I liked them. Scars tell stories, which was clearly stated in this poem. It's as if scars can be poems, themselves? Cliche, maybe (my statement, I mean).
Any who. This poem is a great reminder of that. Great topic and well played.
Any who. This poem is a great reminder of that. Great topic and well played.
