a girl and her boy

. daily life : wool obsession : bibliomania : living on purpose .

Old Poem: Scars

I wrote the following poem July 2, 2000, just a few days after I graduated from high school. I was living in Skowhegan at the time, just a mile from school. Sue and her husband opened their doors to me after I was kicked out. Thinking back on my experiences, I wrote this poem sitting on the bank of the Kennebec River near a foot bridge.

SCARS

I have scars on
my face.
When I was little
I would feel these
little bumps on
my face and I
would scratch at
them and pick
at them until
they formed a
scab; but of
course I didn’t
stop there.
I would pick
the scabs and
make them
bleed
just because I
was bored, maybe
scared or angry.
I still bear these
scars.

While I was creating
visible scars
on my skin
you were
creating invisible
scars on my soul.

I have a scar
from all those
mornings getting ready
for school
that I had to wear
those jeans I hated
that you made me buy
anyway and a
too big shirt
that made me feel fat.

I have a scar
for the time you
made me so
scared of you
I ran from you
hyperventilated
and came away
from you with
more than a
bloody nose.

I have scars.

The scabs I had
when I was little
eventually healed over
and turned from
their angry
redness and became
less noticeable and
a part of who I am.
Just as these scars lost their anger
and soreness,
the ones you inflicted
will too.

But they will always be there.

I don’t think I ever wrote truer words in my life.

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