My Scars

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My Scars

My scars remind me of the pain.
The pain of how he left me to suffer alone with this disease.
My scars remind me of the abuse.
The abuse of him, raping me repeatedly, every night.
My scars remind me of the love.
The love he claimed he had for me.
My scars remind me of the lies.
The lies he told me each and everyday about being faithful.
My scars I have to live with for the rest of my life.
But I shall walk with my head held high with the scars of my past.
I overlook my scars and live only in the present and hopefully live to see the future.

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Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

tellebaby’s Poems (4)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Smiling Butterfly 0
There Was Once A Chance... 0
Painful Memories 0
My Scars 0