Scars on my hands from the kitchen knife mishap, 

cat-related incidents like claw marks or the time the cat food 

can lid attacked my right middle finger, the time i caught myself before

 meeting the sidewalk. scar on my knee the time i met the sidewalk. puffy 

pink surgery scars scattered across my torso. pale white marks 

across my thighs, knees, hips, and arms like permanent 

streak lightning, indelible documents of sudden growth 

that was too much for my young skin’s elasticity to 

handle without strain. Scars on my hands and 

knee from the successful recoveries. scars on my torso 

from successful medical procedures undergone to improve 

my life scars depicting my skin’s resilience even when stretched too far 

at one time. scars that show my epidermis’s ability to hold me together no matter 

what (at the expense of my dermis). scars that all prove my survival. scars from events 

that could have killed others. scars that give my body character, adding unique ness, tex ture, 

and stories. Freshly fallen sn ow is nice to look at, wi th it’s pure smoothness and unblemished 

beauty. but snow pockmar ked with footprints, tre nches, and forts loo ks like it 

has a lively past and sto ries to tell.