Thin Scars Bob And Wheel
Thin scars
now appear so faded.
They mirror iron bars
old yet decorated.
I connect scattered stars.
Branded,
these marks give me away.
If I’m being candid,
lines hold what I can’t say.
Brute force was demanded.
Upon
a wish the light dances,
here and then it is gone.
The roughness romances,
giving strength to build on.
My skin,
delicate mosaic
painted by where I’ve been.
Whichever one you pick?
It’s story leaves a grin.
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