I have had them since forever,
Like that mole on my shoulder
They drape that colour,
That evil colour of frowns
And align themselves, some on my heart
but most on my brows.
Why do you have them, a dear friend asks
I don’t have them, they have me
each night, little by little,
when my skin wears out from m cuts
they have me, they consume me!
But she doesn’t understand.
So she asks again, but why?
I calmly repeat,
the older skin would have forgiven and
the newer me would too
had not her soul be blessed largely
with all scars and anxiety and pain.
my friend asks again,
How long will you have them?
Until I have gone far away from myself
that my scars seem like harmless little grains.
She sighs and says,
One day you’ll forgive them and this is toxic, you will see for yourself
Laughing and sipping on my steamy poison I say,
toxic is not my thing either,
and sure dear, one day I might do that
just after I would have forgiven myself!