A deeply dark and personal poem about how some wounds never heal. |
-Without A Permanent Scar- by Keaton Foster Living so far Without a permanent scar Certainly there are wounds Grievously inflicted Paths to suffering Unhealed abominations Of absolute perfection Inflicted upon me By people turned creatures Hellish aberrations Doing what they did For the worst kind of reason Which according to them Is absolutely none at all Such open wounds Fester and ooze No longer does blood flow Instead as the infection grows Putrid puss bubbles up From the core of my soul Out into the world beyond Such a caustic smell sickens Those blind to my existence It does not take long For them to find me hiding within The shadows and tricks of light Once they spot me Once they know for sure They stop and they stare Freakishly I am aware Of what they see and what They will come to think about me They are sure that such wounds Are self-infliction methods of getting Desperately needed attention Nothing could be further From the reality that I am living Without a permanent scar These wounds that are mine Shine through every truth Burning away in absolute darkness Itching, festering representations Of all that has ever been done Will I ever be able to heal Will I ever be able to mend Or will all that is within pour out Will the infection of my existence spread Beyond the world outside my skin Injured, I fight every day to heal I scream close to the wounds given Without a permanent scar The injuries suffered are still exposed And everyone that dares to come close Will know the extent of my wounds… Without a Permanent Scar Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012. |