Scars Poems - Poems about Scars

Form: Englyn Unodl Union I touched a shadow and called it a flame, It smiled — but was the same. My scars whispered his name. Love left, but I still came. ...

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He reflected on the life he had lived Staring out the window watching his kids with his grandkids They were his greatest gifts He also felt this quiet melancholy of putting them in a position To survive In a world filled with racists He hoped they would outlive him He hoped he would end up in a casket...

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(The rose you dropped ) Roses are beautiful, ain’t they? You see them once, and for a moment you believe in softness again. In something that won’t leave. But beauty tricks you— it draws your hands close before you notice the blood. No one tells you how much it hurts to love something that was born to wilt. He smiled like safety. Spoke like a promise. And I believed, like I...

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I loved him when I was young before I knew the ocean depths I loved him with a heart brand new no scars to mar me yet I loved him with a clean, pure soul no knowledge had I of sin I loved him with my hair in braids with such hope, how I loved him I loved him when my breasts...

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I've known of a girl, young and brave Not for long, yet it's etched clear an impression she left on. Struck like a storm, came a cacodemon, Strolling through her blood Tormenting every cell it encountered. Could never gauge the depth of her agony or extent of her cancer. Therapy too left behind nasty scars Her beauty taking a distinct cast Something...

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Silent flames, scars speak through the night, broken breath, wild and torn— rain and snake coil wounds unseen, I bleed to heal me...

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I have scars that you cannot see as these scars are deep inside of me. Scars of depression the scars of pain scars that are forever in your brain The scars that you have buried deep the scars that effect you in your sleep Scars that you have carried all your life Scars of...

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On this gangrenous planet, where the sky bears the scars of time gone by, we should refrain from weaving plans from threads of illusions and hopes, yet we continue to craft them with an optimism that pulses deep within our veins, like a reflex of the dying seeking light in the final darkness of the day. We cling to...

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When I walk through a blink of a garden That hugs my legs And calls my mother To come collect these shards of broken glass I felt it on the kick of my leg With hours and more hours spent Asking for a chance to restart There wasn’t even a miracle To call and ask for a redo I felt the pain when...

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I dig the blade into my skin I don’t get why it’s such a sin. People drink until they drown Until they can’t hear a sound People smoke until they’re high Until they think they’re in the sky People avoid until there’s nothing Until the pain starts numbing What’s wrong with a couple small scars? How much different are they really from bars...

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i draw the pain upon my skin, each cut a silent scream unheard, a bleeding map of battles fought inside the dark corners of my mind. the blood flows - red truths i cant say, whispers of a heart breaking quietly, fragile threads pulled tight, unraveling - until all thats left is the weight of wanting to end. i stand on the edge...

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My father never hit me-- he just taught me how to burn. Taught me silence was safer than softness, that anger was armor and kindness a weakness someone would use. I watched him carve the word weak into everything he feared, watched him drown my brother’s voice, cut my mother’s name from the air. Hate was our heirloom. Polished like silver. Passed down like gospel. I almost gave it...

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I didn’t see the blast-- just felt it after, in the hush of your retreat. No scars to stitch, just words lodged in soft tissue. They ache when it rains. You said, "It's not like I hit you,” but silence detonates too. It tears in quiet, spreads slow as bruising thoughts. Now I walk crooked, smile with hesitation, and check every room for the pieces I’ve left behind....

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Fifty years burned into the marrow of my bones, A life stitched together with fire and fate. Mi Vida Loca, a symphony of scars and rebellion, I have walked through storms that swallowed souls, Witnessed horrors I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy, Yet here I stand, whole—unbroken, unbeaten, ...

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each of us have scars that we keep within with courage we can let go ... and with strength we can heal ...

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