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
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