Scars are what I\'m made up of.
Some are visible and some are not.
Some were given,
Some were made by me.
Some faded with time from my skin,
but remained engraved in my heart.
Some are still there,
reminding me that no one cares...
Some are telling me,
why I don\'t belong here...
Some were of knives,
some of hands...
Some were deeper
with the sharpest tool,
of words.
Scars, everyone feels them as
black stains on white,
craters in the moon,
spots on beauty.
But to me, they are the reason I survived.
Maybe I wouldn\'t have been who I am today without them.