Scars

The scars I ended up with
pushed through my skin.
They wanted to be seen,
not only held within.

I find them pretty,
but not everyone else thinks so.
The ambulance came
and took me where I didn’t want to go.

The mental hospital,
cold and unforgiving.
They medicated me,
watched the dead living.

I finally got out of there
and I drew new scars.
The blood bubbled out,
as beautiful as the stars.