Scar Tissue
I dream in color.
Shades of grey mix to form shadows of black and white.
Pictures melt together like wax candles on a strawberry birthday cake.
I like roses, the red ones flecked with black tear drops.
The one's with scars and stains that refuse to fade with time.
I relate to their pain.
They stand tall with the look of disgust painted upon their tattered leaves.
Heads are bowed and eyes are averted as passerby refuse to take notice.
Shame, it makes the world go 'round.
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