There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.
quote by Harry Crews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finally Free
The wound has healed
The scars are sealed
I can't feel it
Anymore
She can have you
I don't care
I'm am finally free
With nothing to hinder me
Do as you like
Do as you please
But nothing you do can hurt me
Watching you with others
Makes me smile
I am healed
poem by Autumn Winds
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Wound
a wound will always
be a wound.
a scar may come
to say you are healed
but soon it will
remember the wound.
perhaps you have not
loved enough
to learn from those
whose hearts
are broken, they
say: forgive and forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unhealed Wound
Sometimes we don’t realize that we have been hurt
Until the bruise comes out and turns blue
Until the wound closed and leaves scar
Until the pain numb and still unhealed
Until what hidden scratched again and bleed more
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Even if the wound is healed, the scar of it remains.
Old scar, new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
Old scar on the hand
New scar on the head
Same pain, different trouble
First came shock
Then hurt became blue
Blue’s gone leaving scar
Old scar, white scar
New scar, hidden well
When morning’s gone, nights always come
Craving old scar, leaving new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Your beauty Decieved me
Balled up tight, my wounds are sealed
The scars are left, they never healed,
You think me insane, you think me rude,
For this unjust fact, it isn’t true,
All I wanted was eternal life, renewed,
What I got instead was, was something impossible to elude,
A pain so deep, A scar unseen,
My love is gone it cannot be,
How can something as beautiful as you be so cruel,
You took my love and played me for a fool,
I gave you my soul, I gave you my heart,
Our love was a painting, the most beautiful of art,
I should have known better
I should have been smart,
Our love should have ended straight from the start.
poem by Crimson Love
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The scars inside will not heal
There is noubt different than being raped
and being pushed down mentaly.
except that the wounds also bleed inside.
The mental scars will not heal.
They do not fade.
There was no difference between being raped
and being run over by a lorry
except that afterwards the sicko asked if you enjoyed it.
As if it were a game.
And still the scars have not healed.
There is no difference of being raped
and going head first through a top floor window.
except that afterwards you are not afraid of hights.
but of half the human population.
And still the scars linger on with the pain.
They do not fade.
Fear of rape is a storm brewing.
Never towalk out alone
when I see a man coming towards me.
All the fears reopen.
And all there is to do is run for dear life.
This scar will not go it will not heal.
Never to open the door to a knock
without the fear has he found me.
What if its him.
All of the fears hold me back.
The scars do not fade they will not heal
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The Scars of Tomorrow
The scars of tomorrow
are now to be carved
for these stones on my road
are piled up high to the stars.
Thus a head wind named fate
can bare me to stay the course
can fling every single stone
into my torn and tortured soul.
He’s intended to lead me astray,
but on this path I won’t stray!
So may a thousand stones be thrown by fate
as such may hurt, wound and rage,
on my path I won't abide in sorrow
for every wound will cure and heal
to the scars of tomorrow
poem by Flandu Flandu
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Hurt. Healed. And Now Distanced
Hurt.
Healed.
And now distanced.
With an attitude that has abandoned,
The honesty of feelings.
With no need for a heart,
To show emotions that include love...
With a purpose to elude the topic of it.
One to ignore and to skip.
Hurt.
Healed.
And now distanced.
From thoughts of relationships.
When they appear to show up...
They are immediately dismissed.
Not permitted to wonder!
Or permitted to exist.
Relationships that close...
The door has shut.
Sealed. Bolted!
Hurt.
Healed.
And now distanced.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The wound caused by a sword can eventually be healed; the hurt resulted from vicious remarks can never be undone.
Unmarked bruises
We all have bruises and hurts
Some cut in deeper than the rest
Scarring us forever
A gash, a scar, a bleeding scrape
Evoke immediate sympathy
And while they hurt, in the now
They fade away, pretty often
But other scars leave no signs
On our bodies, and yet
Hurt and gnaw at our soul
With unmarked bruises, painful forever
poem by Anita Atina
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A Scar On My Heart
With every scar, behind it is a story
a scar on my heart, it speaks of heart ache
a true murder of my love, heart break.
scars heal-yes, but fade-they do not,
a reminder that will be with me,
that tells a story that pains for eternity.
i had gaven you my heart, a beautiful piece of me,
your decision...to puncture it, a deep hole i need to fill,
my tarnished heart-you gave back, inside hurting until.
poem by Careema Cooper
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Scar of Scars
Scar of Scars.
Around the cut, some are smooth.
Moist and true.
Bereft of moss or beard.
Pie faced and candy..ooh.
Every life savers.
Candy cake is brandy wine.
More, many more and edgy.
Leafy rims pink petaled.
Sharp razors, just more sweat and juicy.
Either way it's coming in,
Through the floor.
and your consciousness is expanded.
Red faced and over the clouds the moon
does look closely down,
and Scar of Scars, dropps drippy more milky.
There is only one cup from every one, some
have two and being with certain preference's.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Star Song
You got your tongue pierced once,
and you say you've got another,
that you can't show anyone,
unless it's under covers,
but you're running around showing everyone your new tattoo.
You got an A in class,
and you hoped no one would notice,
you're the smartest kid in school,
and it makes you self-conscious,
and your loser boyfriend is smoking out in the boys room.
I wish someone would tell you,
you're a star the way you are,
you know you're not fooling anyone.
No, you've got the eyes of an angel,
don't try to change, yeah,
everybody's got their scars.
(everybody's got their scars)
No matter what they tell you,
you're beautiful the way you are.
I bet your mom was so happy,
you became a cheerleader,
home coming queen,
just like your older sister,
'till you dyed your hair pink
and they said what were you drinking,
and it never did sink in,
it don't matter what they think.
Cause you're a star the way you are,
you know you're not fooling anyone.
No, you've got the eyes of an angel,
don't try to change, yeah,
everybody's got their scars,
(everybody's got their scars)
never mind how ugly they are.
(never mind how ugly they are)
No matter what they tell you,
you're beautiful the way you are.
Oh the way you are,
(oh the way you are)
oh the way you are,
(oh the way you are)
oh the way you are,
yeah.
You're a star the way you are,
You know you're not fooling anyone.
No, you've got the eyes of an angel,
don't try to change, yeah,
everybody's got their scars.
(everybody's got their scars)
No matter what they tell you
you're beautiful you are.
You're a star the way you are,
no, you're not fooling anyone.
No, you've got the eyes of an angel,
don't try to change, yeah,
everybody's got their scars,
(everybody's got their scars)
never mind how ugly they are.
(never mind how ugly they are)
No matter what they tell you,
you're beautiful the way you are.
No matter what they tell you,
you're beautiful the way you are.
No matter what they tell you,
you're beautiful the way you are.
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sign Here, Please:
At 43 my body is a twisted wreckage of scar tissue.
Most of them are from people I know or knew.
Cigarette burns (many of them) ,
Knife slices,
A large cut left by a pair of scissors wielded by a crazy girl I dated,
Claw marks on my back, sex scars, another crazy girl with 'lee press on talons'.
My teeth were knocked out in a few fights (over women and heroin) .
I now wear dentures.
There is a one from being hit with a frying pan in the head
I don't care how funny it is in Looney Toons,
that shit HURT.. and bled like a virgin sacrifice.
There are the scars from childhood clumsiness
(Falling down stairs and the like)
I have a huge scar on my right thigh...
a blowtorch my dad used to teach me that men don't cry
(I still can't, it worked)
'Sex and pain form flesh identity' Burroughs wrote.
My body is an autograph book.
Many, many, people have signed it,
and I remember them all.
I also have tattoos and piercings,
I remember who did those as well but they lack the emotional honesty of the others.
A friend recently told me
'Nothing is more honest than a punch in the face'
I had to nod in agreement...
While I am covered in scars (many, many scars) .
I have to admit,
they are all honest.
Funny thing is, I wouldn't trade them,
they are stories,
they are my stories made flesh.
They are me
and the people who put them there,
they are also, in a very literal way, they are me as well.
poem by Brevet Wilson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody Else
Nobody else will ever get a chance to get it.
Oh no.
Or make claims that they had it when they did.
No!
Nobody else will ever get a chance to get it.
Oh no.
Or make those claims they had it when they did.
No!
The sharing space all in my face.
Nobody else will get to know.
Or sharing toothpaste not replaced.
Nobody else will get to know.
To get that close to me no more.
Nobody else will get to know...
Snuggling up when they get cold.
NO!
Nobody else will ever get a chance to get it.
Oh no.
Or make that claim they had it when they did.
No!
Nobody else will ever get a chance to get it.
Oh no.
Or make those claims they had it when they did.
No!
How I look before I'm dressed.
Nobody else will get to know.
Or how I look in nakedness.
Nobody else will get to know.
Blemishes exposing flaws.
Nobody else will get to know...
What I like or what I hate.
Since my mind is back in shape.
Nobody else will ever get a chance to get it.
Oh no.
Or make a claim they had it when they did.
No!
Nobody else will ever get a chance to get it.
Oh no.
Or make one claim they had it when they did.
No!
I'm not giving up a bit of my peace to leave it!
Oh no.
I'm not seeking anymore to wound and heal.
Uh, uh no, no!
I'm not giving up a bit of my peace to leave it!
Oh no.
I'm not seeking anymore to wound and heal.
Uh, uh no, no!
No more bending or giving in!
Those scars I've had I've let them go!
No more bending or giving in!
Those scars I've had I've let them go!
Those scars I've had I've let them go!
Those doors once open now are closed.
The sharing space all in my face.
Nobody else will get to know.
Or sharing toothpaste not replaced.
Nobody else will get to know.
To get that close to me no more.
Nobody else will get to know...
Snuggling up when they get cold.
Those scars I've had I've let them go!
Those scars I've had I've let them go!
And no one will ever get that close,
Again!
No, no!
And no one will ever get that close,
Again!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beautiful scars!
intricate drawings cut into her skin
they tell of tales of the little blue kitten
her skin so raw from the scars trying to heal
she can't get away from the hurt she feels
she feels the need to cause herself pain
but every night she cries again
beautiful scars tell the tale
of when mommy used to love her
before she left her
poem by Marissa Ford
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When It Was Over, You Did Not Tell Me Where It Really Ended
you show me a scar
in your heart,
you assure yourself it was once the wound
of things that ended
years ago
of the wound
that i inflicted
you had anger and
now when we meet again
you are smiling
you now
have happiness beside him and your children
i look deeper inside your eyes
showing you also my scars
in my own way of telling you about
my loneliness for years
accumulating like layers of mud and
rocks
this loneliness
that never ends like doors that always open
to the night skies
without stars
on the surface of my skin
lies a wound that never heals
you caused it too
but i did not tell you
let them believe that i am the guilty party
the fault of your earth
the murderer convicted but was never heard
i smile at you this day
i am happy on this casual meeting
it will be the last
i am dressed but i am not prepared to go anywhere
on the surface
how can you see what is on this deep
sinking eyes?
the sharks, the pointed rock, the deaths on the ocean floors
the corpses there rotting
unearthed unnamed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A hero of his clime
This morning, as I cut into
the tough flesh of the huge tomato
with its brown, half-healed scar
like an old sabre wound from some great battle,
the thought came, if you can call
a vegetable, heroic, and why not,
then this old bruiser is a hero…
its red proud chest so stalwart set,
saying, I saw the season through..
come rain, come shine, come wind
and foul weather - what’s going on these days? –
I saw it all – and more than that –
I grew it – my way… and if they said,
as mortals do –
as if they knew a tom that’s true –
you’re not for us – I’ll say to you –
I saw two thousand seven through -
I lived it – my way…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 60
Mendacity resembles a violent blow, the scar of which remains, though the wound may be healed. Seest thou not how the brothers of Joseph became noted for falsehood, and no trust in their veracity remained, as Allah the most high has said: Nay but ye yourselves have contrived the thing for your own sake.
One habitually speaking the truth
Is pardoned when he once makes a slip
But if he becomes noted for lying,
People do not believe him even when speaking truth.