We’re not calling them ‘scars’ anymore. They are
a memorial to my many misadventures,
a memento of misguided madness,
a souvenir of suicidal slumbers,
a relic from rock bottom:
a shrine to survival.
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We’re not calling them ‘scars’ anymore. They are
a memorial to my many misadventures,
a memento of misguided madness,
a souvenir of suicidal slumbers,
a relic from rock bottom:
a shrine to survival.
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Love this!
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Simple yet so profound! I love it!
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Reblogged this on A Lion Sleeps in the Heart of the Brave and commented:
Powerful words!
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This is very poetic and sounds wonderful, and what a great gesture to search all the reasons for theses scars in your person. May be just everything together did not work out and perhaps just everything can workout better in 2018!!! Great poetry!
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loved it. really. you achieve a lot in so little space.
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