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Scars of yesteryear
That upon thy skin proudly stand
Their paleness a stark contrast
Compared with thy bronzed physicality.

Whatever the horrors
To which they have but borne witness
A gamut of emotions accompanying
Each a story in and of itself documented.

A freak accident
Possible singular lapse in judgement
Fighting ever so valiantly for one’s life
For or against matters not at curtain’s close.

Chasing an oblivion
To some an ever-elusive end state
The means a ligature taut a blade
Honed upon humanity an indignity visited.

Others the perpetrated
Their bodies a canvas enticingly blank
A siren call to tormented artists of the night
Indulging that violent urge a landscape to paint.

Spill thy secrets
Expose them to the cleansing light of day
Every scar a veritable badge of honour
Testifying ultimately to you: Survivor.