My Scars
My body is a canvas.
I have put it through pain and scars.
Everyone says that it is ok.
Scars are beautiful.
Scars shows that you were strong
and have become stronger.
But I hate my scars.
Just like how I hate the ink on the white canvas has
carved itself onto the purity of untouched boundaries
and imprinted itself forever into my memories.
They have become untouchable.
They scream for attention and acceptance.
They beg me to pour in pride and pitifulness.
They want.
And want.
And want.
No, a scar will just be a scar.
Nothing more than just a scar.