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I watch you lean against the wall,
and I know what you're thinking.
You know I'm watching you, and
you keep your back to me.
One week home, I can understand
you wanting to hide yourself from
Thinking back, you thought your
tattoo would eventually cover your
scar, but it didn't.
And I know you're afraid.
Afraid of what I might say.
I wish you would turn around,
so I could look at you.
You don't have to show me
your bruises; I still love you.
I just want you to hear what
I have to say, to you.
Take a look in the mirror.
You're still the same woman,
that I always loved, years ago.
You're still you, even if you don't
think you are.
You're absolutely beautiful.
Just take a glance and you'll see.
It is just a scar.
And the most beautiful part
about all of this, is that you're
still here to view this vision.