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Wrinkles

Wrinkles
are scars of time
Scars of pride that show you
how much you struggle for your life

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Scars

Now I see that you are pushing me away,
The scars remain as my pain,
I can see that my veins are full of scars,
Scars of remaining past,
Scars from all those cutting,
Scars from all the pain I went through,
Love is vain,
The rain might pour down,
But nothing has stop me from seeing the scars I have left behind,
Nothing can’t stop me from seeing the remaining scars,
All my scars, all my memories remain as my pain.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Scars

We all have scars.

Some visible and some hidden to the world.

We sometimes try to hide the physically scars because we think it is ugly,

but really having scars is not a bad thing.

It reminds us we can heal and get through the bad times both physically and mentally when we are ripped or torn apart.

So embrace you scars and keep on healing.

For healing and battling is a part of life.

Let people see your scars and how strong you are by healing.

poem by Christina J. Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jesus Holds My Hand

I saw Jesus last night.
He layed beside me,
held my hand.
I felt his scars.
They didn't make me sad.
The scars are happy.
Jesus said i have scars too.
You just can't see them.
My scars cut deep
So i can't escape them.
Jesus said to give him my scars.
That he carried the sorows of the world.
I gave my scars to God last night.
He still holds my hand.
And i love Jesus.
Can you?

poem by Lady Hope
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide Scars

i look at myself in the mirror wondering.
wondering what happend to the girl i used to be.
wondering why there are scars on my wrist.
why i did this to myself.
then i think back to when my whole world was crashing down.
i seem to realize that these scars are suicide scars.
i start to cry to the fact that i will have these scars for a life time.
i grab my razor put it up to my wrist.
and i start to cut.
i start to cut them suicide cuts all over again.
i cant stop.
but i guess that this will be me forever.
makeing them ugly suicide scars.

poem by Teresa Johnson
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Suicide Scars

i look at myself in the mirror wondering.
wondering what happend to the girl i used to be.
wondering why there are scars on my wrist.
why i did this to myself.
then i think back to when my whole world was crashing down.
i seem to realize that these scars are suicide scars.
i start to cry to the fact that i will have these scars for a life time.
i grab my razor put it up to my wrist.
and i start to cut.
i start to cut them suicide cuts all over again.
i cant stop.
but i guess that this will be me forever.
makeing them ugly suicide scars.

poem by Trish Spencer
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Right To Cry

He kept it all inside - alive and screaming
Tears were not his style, his pride was leading
I watched the light dancing on the sea
As it turned to grey
Oh, how I wish that the tide would soon return
Someday, someday
Ive a right to cry
Thats not giving in
Scars from you and i, scars we kept within
Theres a right to cry, its not giving up
With my right to cry, now Ive had enough
Its hard to break the bones of life, of living
A side youll never show, let go, dont need it
Hold on, hold on, hold on
I can see in your eyes and I know how youre going to feel
I watched the light dancing on the sea
As it turned to grey
Oh, how I wish that the tide would soon return
Someday, someday
Ive a right to cry
Thats not giving in
Scars from you and i, scars we kept within
Theres a right to cry, its not giving up
With my right to cry, now Ive had enough

song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Time

If you want it
Dont look at my face
Its the last time
Its not forever
The dust in the wind
Its the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
The scars are made by man
Heaven cant help you now
In this madness
Take it while you can
Its the last time
This holy water
Running away
For the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
So heal the scars of man
One chance, this night
To shine on this land
This time, with pride
Give back now while you can
All these fields, that once were green
Have turned to smoke and steel
The sun will fall, and the last moon rise
Dont turn this tide away
If you want it
So start it again
Its the last time
(the scars were made by man)
Its not forever
The dust is the wind
For the last time
One world, one dream
The stars in your hand
No light, no life
So heal the scars of man
One chance, this night
To shine on this land
This time, with pride
Give back now while you can
Music & lyrics by: geoff downes & john payne

song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Scars of the Heart

Scars of the Heart

At times it seems like no relief
We can suffer long with our grief

Will the heart ever mend
Will the pain ever end

The tears come from my eyes
But it’s my heart that cries

People ask how am I
They would know if they see me cry

From when my wife passed
I have scars of the heart that will last

My heart may heal after time goes by
The scars of my heart will be till I die

poem by Michael Gelb
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Reflections

I'm staring at my reflection,
seeing all of my battle scars,
And all of my pain connected with them,
Memories flash in front of my eyes,
Of the time where it all went wrong,
Of the time where the fight for my life began,
I run my fingers over my scars,
Each memory connecting with each scar,

poem by Charlie Bones
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Pitching Away Bales Of Daily Nonsense

My scars and wounds,
You will never see.
A pain to relive...
Is not for me.

And it is not that I heal quickly.
Sharing that process,
Is something I do not believe.
Why should I wear my heart on my sleeve?
To prove my life has not been struggle free.

My scars and wounds,
You will never see.
A pain to relive...
Is not for me.

There is no reason for you or me,
To validate something we both can agree...
No one familiar with digging out of ditches.
Or pitching away bales of daily nonsense,
Is going to be doing that without a bruise.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Scars

I once knew a girl.
Who forever had scars and cuts upon her arms.
Hope was insribed.
Not in the colour of ink.
But in the colours of the scars.

With stitches on her skin.
Plus tears in her eyes.
And bumpy scars.
Filled with hate and shame.
For whats she done.
But she'll do it again.

She once saw someone.
They asked what is that on your arms.
Ciggerette burns came the reply.
Deep inside the girl was lost.

I once saw myself drowned in tears.
Cant understand the purpose of my being.
For the cuts and scars.
The pain goes so much deeper

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Scars From A Childhood

Scars from a childhood, some visible, some not
One on my palm from a grill that was hot.
Punishment came from nothing I did.
Clenching my fist, it was something I hid.

Why world? I'm only a kid.

Scars that are hidden by clothes that I wear,
or some on my neck covered by hair.
These are excuses for frustrations at home.
They will stay with me wherever I roam.

Why world? I'm only a kid.

Never understanding just what I did do?
accepting the scars, each one as I grew,
fragmenting my mind so I could not forget
all of these scars that are still there yet.

Why world?
I was only a kid.

Some are visible. They can't be seen.
They live inside me. They're there when I dream.
Can things be different now that I've grown?
Or will they stay with me?
Are they all that I own?

Why world?
I was only a kid.

The kids in this world that are like me,
I wonder with fear what their fate will be?
The world can be cruel when you have no defense.
Where is the decency? Where is the sense?

Why world? They are only kids.

Those that have suffered all of these scars
should see the inflictors behind iron bars.
Until this is seen as a travesty
it will continue so no one will see.

Please world, please let them see.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Preserving Scars

She wakes up
Screaming
Crying

From nightmares
Terror
Fear

Scars
On her body
Show it all

Abuse
Mistreatment
Neglect
All her history
Is written
Upon her skin

Dripping in
Rose red
Ink

Scars
Tell her experiences
Memories

Engraved in
Her mind
Imprinted

Never to
Be without
Them

Never to
Be without
Pain

Reminders
Everywhere she
Looks

Of the past
Preserved
In her skin

She covers them
As best as she
Can

She hugs herself
Rocking back and forth
Rembering lost pain

Remembering
How she got those
Marks

How those
Memories
Were made

She will
Never be without
Those scars

Forever
Preserved
In her skin

poem by Autumn Winds
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Scars Of Our Past

you say you wana know me,
But do you really?
do you see who i am?
Do you see my scars?
look closer, their carves straight into my arm.
Do you see my pain, the tears, streaming down my face.
you hold me in your arms, tell me you care,
but do you really?
How?
Im covered in their filth from what they've all done to m, no matter how many times i shower the filth wont ever leave, it will never go away. cant you see the scars that my past have left behind.
But thats okay becasue today im choosing to make a stand im leaving my scars and past behind.

poem by Alicia Tschantre
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Bulletproof

Hey, it's me. Got a kevlar vest ornating my chest,
Walking a battlefield, with scars only partly healed.
Bullets and rockets explode, as the dead's bones corrode.
But I got a kevlar vest ornating my chest.
Hey! Got nothing to fear right? I walk the alleys at night.
I'm a gun-toting machine, stop me if you can!
Bulletproof, gun in hand, tis this an invincible man?
But did I tell you where I've got most my scars?
They're under my kevlar vest ornating my chest.
Deep and hard, some still bleeding, jagged scars.
Many bullets have hit, but few through could they get.
So now you ask, from where are those scars you mask?
Most of my scars are on my back, the sad fact:
I'm bulletproof, but the knives still go through.
Got a kevlar vest ornating my chest, might be bulletproof, but the knives still go through.
Bulletproof...

poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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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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Scars

Those who suffer scars outside
Are afflicted since they can't hide.
But they likely confront reality
Since their appearance is there to see.
In turn most learn it's not what is seen,
Since actions determine what life will mean.

Whereas those harboring scars inside
Can't be treated when they've denied
That there's anything wrong…
Until the next crisis comes along.
Then it's the world that's marred…
Not them since they have worked hard.

Scars of denial, insecurity and hate
Are like open wounds that never abate.
These marks take their greatest toll
Surreptitiously hidden, destroying soul.
Sadder are innocent victims that suffer;
Unscarreds exposed to denial with no buffer.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Let Not

let not the tears in your eyes
be of my death my love ones
but of words left unsaid
stuff left undone
and love left unportraied

let not those simple i love you's
go to waste cause life is short
and allow not the brewing war
to put a damp on your smile
but may it spark a revolution
for a growing civilization

let not the scars on the body
be the wounds on your heart
for it what hurt the soul we should
worry about as the pysical wound
heal with time as the mental scars
last a life time

poem by Robert Roberts
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Small Points Of Victory

those are not scars and wrinkles
on my face...
they are mile markers,
paragraphs,
and small points of victory
grounded in nameless defeats!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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