Scars

Scars
They decorate my arm
Like ornaments on the tree from the Christmas tree farm
A reminder of days
Filled with my old ways
Some are fading
Some are just not wavering
A contrast to my skin
Telling the truth about the pain within
That escapes from my arm
In my times of self-harm
The blood rushes to the surface
Is my life even worth it
The scars outside my fade and heal
But the pain within remains just as real