Scars
Scars
Naeha Inapanuri
The scars that trail up my arm
Forged in the fires of my stupidity
No longer burn
No longer hurt
Merely a memory from the past
A churlish mistake that was made centuries ago
No longer burn
No longer hurt
The act which left the clean, white cabinets with an ashy hue
Left me with the ovals of darkness, stained on my skin
Which
No longer burn
No longer hurt
Left me with more than a reminder of my foolishness
They left me with a story to tell, the story of my scars
And how they
No longer burn
No longer hurt
This poem is about:
Me