Under My Scars

The first time I carved a whisper in my skin,

I was ten, and the storm had already crept in.

A crimson thread to ease the howl inside,

A secret pact where pain could hide.

Again and again, the frost kissed me cold,

I bled out the silence no child should hold.

But shallow etchings turned to graves,

Where innocence drowned in quiet waves.

By twelve, the world had closed its gate,

I moved through life, resigned to fate.

I searched for a dawn, some holy light,

But I was a pawn, no will to fight.

Eighteen came like a funeral hymn,

Ticking bomb with a crooked grin.

I shattered in silence, no cries, no cue,

Tossed all my dreams in waters blue.

Life rolled its dice with a wicked smile,

Another decade, another trial.

Fool I was, to hope or pray,

Dictators came to feast and flay.

At thirty, my body a tapestry torn,

Each scar a story of nights I mourn.

No shining road, no guiding star,

Just absence of life and the everfar.

Illness sank its venomous teeth,

Buried my will in sorrow beneath.

Why fight the war I could never win?

The past is carved beneath my skin.

Every lie, each whispered threat,

Still visits me in cold night sweat.

A chessboard cracked, a queen in flames,

Haunted by ghosts who never gave names.

Knights of shame and kings of spite

Moved me with hands that stole my light.

Now rooks of ruin block the way,

And voices hiss, "You should not stay."

No lessons inked beneath these lines,

Just echoes of forsaken signs.

Under my scars, no wisdom gleams,

Only the fool who still believes in dreams.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

No fool you but - a heroic tale, truth, that took you from childhood to now, able to express herself in such a sad but nonetheless academic write, Milena. Takes courage and skill to write as you have, has moved me start to finish, impressed me too that you can use such fine meter in such a tragedy. Superb sadness that shows you to be very special.