SCAR
i have a scar.
it runs down the middle of my chest.
most people can’t see my scar. in fact,
You might even say i’m lying,“It’s not a
real scar.” but
i know it’s there.

i have a scar.
sometimes it is ripped open
and the blood drip drips down my chest,
and the hurt makes it hard to
breathe.
Breathe.
feels like the whole world is
crashing into me.
but it heals.
i whisper words to it,
magical words. and it heals,
though the wound never has time to
completely close.
a simple look from a classmate, filled
with contempt,
they think they’re so much better than
the strange child that is me- rip.
they always
always
Always
underestimate me- rip.
they wipe away my beautiful words
that i took such time, such
care to write -rip.
when will they realize
that i am so much more
than what they see?
breathe.
Breathe.

i have a scar,
and i’m proud of it.
it shows that i am strong.
and someday
someday
Someday
it will heal. it will.
and no words and looks will ever be capable of
ripping it open. because
I am Strong.
I am Smart
I will Rise.
Rise.
RISE.