Scars

I never understood it when people said
that they found their scars ugly,
a mar on otherwise flawless skin
because of
that time in third grade when they fell over on the pavement
that time their grip slipped while washing a knife
that time in art class they were jostled while holding a hot glue gun
and the tip burned into their hand
that time when their pain bubbled up
and they cut into their arms to regain control

I’ve always found scars beautiful,
a story told on skin
like a tattoo permanently engraved
that tells of how you survived pain,
moved past it
and got stronger

and even if you haven’t yet,
that doesn’t mean you won’t

because I look at my scars
every day
and I think of them
not as chains
dragging me down
screaming my weakness to the world
but rather
as battle armor
pierced but never broken
tried and true
telling of battles I’ve gone into
and survived.