Trace my scars and see the oceans of battles that waged upon my bare bones.
Echoes of yesterday hidden beneath surfaces that mask the battlefield.
They penetrate past my skin, forming ripples of time.
My history is marked by these soft, white lines, the pink moons, and rivers.
Behold and see me for who I truly am.
I hide not what the heart can feel though the eyes hold to obstacles placed.
Yet these shapes formed can only be seen by those who grow close.
Too many have been built upon false promises and hope.
Naked soul swallowed whole and carried by the damage.
A vessel of pain as bones we’re shattered, nerves bruised.
Colors changing in hues and tones.
These scars, they hold a deeper meaning few have known.
These scars, my own.