It’s strange

It starts from a single touch

Travels the length of your body

Your toes curl under

Stomach churns

And fingers tingle

It was never supposed to happen

The game is dangerous

Lives are lost

Souls forgotten

Martyrs remembered

The scars are there to prove it

But wars are still waged

Some battles are meant to be fought

Won even

Others erode away

Empty and broken

But what is it really

Why do they continue

On the perilous journey of life

Chapter by chapter

Line by line

They shatter

A million peices scatter

Only to be stuck back together again

Why not just give up?

Let the scars be a reminder

The story etched on to your skin

To show the world

Of your battles within

Keep them from hurting

From striking out again

Their touch isn’t feather

It does not flow away like the river

But peels away your skin

Inch by inch

So that the memory of the pain remains

And you know what to expect

Is it not easier to die?

To finish rather than continue

The story can be endless

But the pen is in our hands

We write our fate

As pen penetrates paper

Words scream out

You are your own destiny

You are what makes this life yours.


One thought on “life…

  1. “The right words are like bandaids to our scars….” -me 🙂 Love the contemplation this evokes, and although we re-hash our pains, we continue to write in remembrance, for learning lessons, for healing. ♥ At least that is how it works for me.

    Thank you for a beautiful contribution to fwf. xox

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