For, Some scars heal.

Some wind their way

And impregnate through

The derma and the fat

The bone and the fascia

Sliced by hands not much older than yours.


For some,

Scars heal.

These tissue tattoos

Clumsily spreading outside the lines:

Trophies of trying times

Or shrouded neath layers

Cosmetic and cloth,

Concealed of association,

Concealed of cause,

Congealing anchors

Keeping taught what's been sewn,

Lest the cleaved continue their divergence.


For some scars,


A four letter word.

Grown antithetic in connotation,

Desperation for swiftness.

Let's get on with our lives!

Waiting for roots to take up

We pick and "don't scratch!" and cream

Attempt to course correct

An unchangeable fated fissure.


For some scars heal.

Faded in skin, if not in mind.

Never shed, so must be worn:

An over-mended jacket against the cold.