A Thousand Cuts
Like ancient rivers carved in stone,
These marks tell tales of storms now flown,
Of battles fought when night was long,
Of learning, slowly, to belong.
These faded paths upon my skin
Speak not of where I've fallen, but where I've been—
Each one a chapter, not an end,
A reminder of my power to mend.
They whisper now of distant days,
Of how we grow in countless ways,
These badges of a warrior's heart
Who chose to stay, to make a new start.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
