Scars.

It was a peculiar thing

And I'll admit it did sting

But I relished in the sense

And the intricate suspense

Everyone says its a knife in the back

But I was faced with your attack

And in slow motion

I saw the knife pierce my heart, no emotion

You, with blood on your hands

Me, with a knife in my chest

I expected outrage from the stands

But your performance progressed

With no complaint or utter of shock

My pain fell on deaf ears and eyes

And I was the laughingstock

Too weak to resist, to rise

I was left to bleed

Without a friend, in my time of need

I looked to the sky

Waiting patiently to die

But my heart kept its beat

It refused to retreat

I looked to the stars

And rose, covered in blood and scars