sometimes
we cannot hide the scars
internal and external
they litter our skin; our minds
tiny little marks of imperfection
proof that we have truly lived

scars
are something that shows we are alive
that this is real
they are not horrid
imperfections, perhaps
but nothing real is ever perfect

scars are a story written out on skin
each with a tale of their own
they are not something to be ashamed of
hidden, despised
scars are real...

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