Long Scars Poems
Long Scars Poems. Below are the most popular long Scars by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scars poems by poem length and keyword.
I can see you standing there
But there are things I cannot see
I cannot see the battles you wage
But I can see the scars they leave behind
I cannot see the heartbreaks you've suffered
But I can see the love you still give freely
I cannot see the mistakes you made
But I can see how you've learned from them
You are just like me
Just another person with hopes and dreams
There are things I don't have to see
Because ultimately I see your humanity
And I value your existence even if you don't
Life gives us all our own unique canvas
And your canvas may enrich the world
If only you have the courage to paint
And to overcome that voice in your head
I'm a suicide survivor
And I don't want you to be one
I just want you to survive
Because there will never be another you
So I see you standing there
With all of your tomorrows at stake
And I just want you to know
I see myself in your eyes
...PS I love you
4/20/2021
If it were the sun, it could be bright, warm, or shiny.
If it were the moon, it could be chilled, peaceful,
and beautiful. If it could not be understood,
it could not be love. If it was not, then
it could be more than it.
Though it may mitigate the pain, it is love.What if?
The purplish brinjal shed its purpleness, just as the
love shed interest.
The road somehow changes its direction toward the destination. But what if destiny has changed?
Although destiny is the same, only the way is
changed. That is how it is working.
Like the love scars as the lovely scars.
The precocious but unconscious heart.
I was a seed
lost in the dark,
hid from the sun,
shut from the sky.
Rain fell on me.
Cold winds tore past.
Night had no end.
Hope felt so far.
I lay in the dirt,
still as a stone,
with no hand near,
with no voice heard.
Yet deep in me,
a root took hold.
Small, yet so strong,
it would not break.
No eye could see
the war down there.
No ear could hear
my plea for light.
I had known love.
I had known loss.
I had held close
what I then lost.
Some hands felt warm.
Some words felt kind.
Yet hands can let go.
Kind words can fade.
So I built walls
round my own heart.
I made it still.
I made it numb.
But walls can crack.
Stone can wear down.
Ice can melt slow.
And hearts can heal.
One day, a ray
slipped through the dark.
It was not much.
But it was light.
I did not rise.
I could not yet.
But I felt heat
deep in my roots.
Then came the rain.
Then came the sun.
Then came the wind.
Then came the dawn.
I rose up slow.
I broke the soil.
I met the sky.
I drank the light.
My scars were still
set in my skin.
My past was still
part of my tale.
But pain had lost
its right to rule.
Fear had lost
its grip on me.
I was not new.
I was not whole.
But I was here.
And that was much.
For stars need night
to show their light.
For seeds need dark
to learn to rise.
For rain must fall
to wake the earth.
For hearts may break
and still beat on.
So if you see
me weep some day,
do not think I
have lost my way.
Tears are not weak.
Grief is not shame.
A scar can show
that I once fought.
And if I fall,
I will rise slow.
If night comes back,
I will seek dawn.
For deep in me,
past all my pain,
a small root lives.
A seed still waits.
And I now know—
the dark can last,
the storm can rage,
the sky can weep,
but no night can
hold back the dawn.
My trembling started as a small shudder, but quickly grew.
What’s happening?
A look of confusion and helplessness on my face,
I had no idea of what was about to pass.
The mix of worry filled me with fearfulness,
while my stomach only grew too nauseated
by the thought of his touch I hated.
He covered my mouth and said, “Don’t make a sound.”
My terrifying silent screams echoing in my mind,
as my body moved with the impact of his hips, I find
it engulfed in tearing at my soul being ripped apart.
“Please,” I begged hoarsely, my eyes beseeching him to stop,
but his gazed lust ignored my pleas.
No matter how much I pleaded with my tormented eyes.
It's dark; once again,
fear of emotion penetrated through all my muscles
all the way to my bones,
as I hear his footstep outside my room while my mother sleeps.
The doorknob slowly turned, opening the door.
Stepping in, he slowly approaches pushing back the covers
and crawls next to me in bed.
Ten years have passed since I left home.
The scars reappeared in my mind,
when I saw the evil start walking toward me.
Why? I asked myself,
as I clench my fist and anger raged through me.
His image brought back the nightmares of fear and distress.
Tortured scream that use to make me jerk from out of bed,
making my whole body shake.
Wishing to slap him for the torture I went through,
instead a cold glaring look,
and turned and walked away wishing him dead.
7/31/2017
Banished to a cursed new land
Scars cover my jagged hands
My soul committed homicide
Took in a breath full of cyanide
I’m in chains, tied to false crimes
But your evidence fails every time
So dress me up for a court date
The warden will become my mate
Now I’m a condemned woman
Who only lost her cautious footing
My only victim is myself, judge
Not my fault I like to hold a grudge
Prison clothes rub under my skin
Starting to feel pain from within
Should I have given my alibi?
Or should I have stayed inside?
I’m starting to lose my crazy mind
Because my lawyers, they won’t find
Anything real that clears my name
Maybe I’m starting to go insane
Now I’m a condemned woman
Who only lost her cautious footing
My only victim is myself, judge
Not my fault I like to hold a grudge
My ex-fella, what a great kinda guy!
He didn’t cheat, only got stupid high
But whatever was found in his blood?
Work of his dealer, not his love
But nobody ever seems to believe it
They’re the reason I’ve lost all spirit
These cold bars police my heart
When will the true torture start?
Freedom seems prettier than diamond
I can’t help but get a bit excited
When I remember his new girl was there
Running oils through his light hair
I was condemned woman
Who only lost her cautious footing
But now I’m free from any charge
That new girl’s bail will be gone
It was the best of tines; it was the worst of tines.
It lay, distraught, in silence on the road.
He came around the curve, saw it too late to swerve;
the puncture caused his front tire to explode.
A silver-plated fork, her lineage was perhaps York;
a heritage of which she’d long lost track.
Her dreams as ballerina, faded like her patina;
now, pits and scars festooned her neck and back.
Her mind played back her fall, the horror of it all;
despairing life, she hoped it would end soon.
At first, upon a dare, burlesque with the flatware,
to end in shame, pimped by a plastic spoon.
Not wanting to be saved, she’d crawled out on the paved,
and waited for the crush when all went flat.
But in that car’s careening, her life took on new meaning;
an unexpected blowout saw to that.
For there, just up ahead, a kitten, surely dead,
was spared as the man slammed upon the brake.
Once stopped, he now could see her mewling pitifully;
he gently scooped her up to calm her shake.
Then, trying not to swear, he wrestled with the spare
and stowed the blown-out tire in the boot.
That’s when he saw her, mangled, her tines all at odd angles,
a fork that placed them all upon this route.
And so with certain care, he also placed her there
beside the kitten, on the padded seat.
Now straightened out and polished, she watches York demolish
the breakfast that her tines scooped out to eat.
—————
for the Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
sponsored by Hilo Poet
written on 01/03/2022
I had seen the train leave the station
I had said goodbye, for the last time
A cold day in autumn, I decided to do some cleaning
Putting summer away, preparing for winter
I found a grey woolen hat, a hat she had used.
The scent, it was like holding her
Red strains of hair, relit the flame
The flame still lingering
I could have learned to play 12 bar blues, that day
I went for a walk
I passed the fire station.
Not all fires can be extinguished.
That smell, still drove me slightly mad.
That smell; like touching a scar
A scar from better times
*
Early evening
I took the metro
I looked around: Two boys, one girl
Italian, well dressed
The girl had straight facial features
The girl had golden, brown hair
The girl had red lipstick
The girl had brown eyes
The girl had a scar
Left cheek; horizontal; long
From the right side she was very pretty
It looked like it was made with a sharp knife
It looked like it was made on purpose
I saw a story
I didn’t see the story
I saw other passengers look twice
She might have been a victim
She might have been the winner
From the left side she fascinated me
She carried a expression of confidence
The boys had placed themselves at her right side
A scar, so visible
*
Lightning and thunder.
A large armchair. Me and a little black cat.
Heavy rain. Rain hitting the windows.
Rain hitting the metal handrail on the porch.
I read a book. I had to stop reading it.
Some stories hit you. This story hit me like a fist to my belly. Hard.
Some stories hit you like a fist, a fist hitting a soft spot.
Some stories are difficult to carry. Some stories are hard to tell.
Some stories scare you. Some stories leave scars.
Some stories hit you, so hard.
This was a story; like that
I had to put the book down
A girl once told me a story
A story like that
It was painful, to listen to her
It was painful, just listening to
A store I have promised, not to tell
A scar that is hard to see
A scar that is hard to live with
A psychic wound
A scar, invisible
Josie was an adorable girl, soft and quiet. She rarely spoke harsh words. Her words were like honey, sweet, and mellifluous. Even as a child, she won hearts with her nectar-like words and gentle nature.
mellifluous words
like sweet nectar and honey
win everyone’s hearts
As Josie grew up, she had to face a lot of disappointments, hurts, and bitterness. Her sweet nature was trampled by the ways of the world. She began to experience anger and sadness. Her words were clipped like sharp bullets, doing damage to all those around her. People began to wonder whether this was the same innocent, angel-like Josie.
words like sharp bullets
tear through hearts and leave deep scars
unretractable
Josie knew that she hurt other people and she cried within. She hated spreading her bitterness, but what could she do? She prayed to the Lord and asked forgiveness, prayed for strength to face the challenges of life and to remove her bitterness. She regretted ever having spoken harshly and went and asked those people to forgive her, which they readily did. She felt at peace and strove to spread love, peace, and joy around her. For she realised that words have immense power, and once spoken, can never be taken back. They leave unforgettable, lasting impressions.
think before you speak
words have a lasting impact
we’ll be judged by them
12.11.2021
{Matthew 12:35-37 - A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things: and an evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth evil things.
But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.
For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned.}
For Charles Messina's "Haibun - with a message" contest
Night wraps me softly in her arms,
Whispering secrets, weaving charms.
She cradles echoes in my chest,
A quiet breath, a gentle rest.
Her cloak conceals my hidden scars,
Each one a story traced by stars.
She treads with footsteps calm and slow,
Through empty halls where shadows grow.
By day, she hides behind the sun,
But when the world is overrun,
She dons my borrowed, fragile face,
And offers me her silent grace.
Night knows the thorns beneath the rose,
The slipping joy no one else knows.
She listens close to muted pleas,
Embracing pain with quiet ease.
She gleams with memories deep and old,
And holds the dreams I dare not hold.
In her hush, my voice is slight—
A whispered prayer in endless night.
No bitterness within her reign,
Just soft release from aching pain.
She guards my tether, faint but bright—
My faithful friend in darkest night.
no, I’m not perfect,
just a man finding his way
but took a wrong turn
no, I’m not perfect,
and I never claimed to be -
bloody good guess though
no, I’m not perfect
but I can see the scars where
your horns used to be
no, I’m not perfect
but you know what else I’m not?
I’m not barking mad
no, I’m not perfect,
and Ken and Barbie we ain’t -
you’re a Chucky doll
no, I’m not perfect
but together we could be -
yeah a perfect storm
no, I’m not perfect
but there's a diff’rence between
perfect and awesome
no, I’m not perfect
but I think you need a drink…
boiled bat’s blood perhaps
no, I’m not perfect
but neither am I a rude
narcissistic bit*h
no, I'm not perfect
but girl you sure as hell ain't
on my to-do list
no, I’m not perfect,
now let’s order some Chinese -
I’ll have the Fok Yu
no, I’m not perfect,
and I’m sorry I’m not your
Mr Right. Cheque please!
Written: September 2014