Scars and Bruises

I hide them. Under a sleeve or skirt.

Scratches that I have earned over years.

They burn and bleed.

They pull and tear.

I spend extra time every day trying to hide.

I don't want to show my bruises and scars.

Most people show them in pride of the battles they've won.

Yet I don't, I'm shy.

A scar down my heart. A bruise that I've brandished.

I trust nothing, it turns into hurt.

My face blushes when I look for a second to long.

Scared to meet other eyes that bore.

Maybe they wonder whats underneath the long robes.

Sometimes I wonder to. Only for a second.

They told me when I was young that I'm ugly.

One said that only scars could ruin the only beauty I have left.

So they hide. Under fabric, under a mask, under make up.

It's all a fake reality. One meant to hide the pain.

To hide the tears behind a smile.

But it never quite reaches the eyes.

You would know its fake if you look closer.

Only problem is, nobody does.

Nobody confronts the truth. They don't look at details.

They marvel at beauty as a whole.

Not beauty in one place.

I never knew, but that's why I'm ugly.

They never cared to look at tiny details.

Only the whole picture at once.

If they had looked at details they would have noticed.

My thick lashes, the way my lips curve in a smile.

He said that the curl at the end of my hair was beautiful.

He said that my eyes were enhancing.

He said never to fear the scars.

They just show that you survived, they show the battles.

A scar shows that you beat what tried to kill you.

So world, here are my brandished scars. And there meant for you to see.

I'm not hiding anymore, nothing is going behind the scenes.

Real beauty comes from what is there. Not what you are putting up.

Not the make up reality that you have.

You don't need to wonder what 's underneath now. Because here it is.