Upon my life I bear one precious scar:
Each night I kiss it, till anew it bleeds,
And tell each drop of blood, as hallowed beads
Are told by those dear few who faithful are.
To me it seems to beautify, not mar,
My inner self, for from that deep wound leads
A path to gained respect, my secret needs
Quenched by the bleeding of that fountain are.
The fiery contest when that wound was won,
Still burns within my brain, and robs of life,
And terror, every lesser hurt that's done
To heart or spirit; let all harm run rife.
I shall not fear again to look upon
The gleaming edges of Fate's sharpest knife.
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Comments about this poem (The Scar by Radclyffe Hall )
- A pair of eyes, Cigeng Zhang
- Dying In The Truth, Dexsta Ray
- The Purple Ant, Bhargabi Dei Mahakul
- Just For Me, Elia Michael
- A Sad Bird, Rohit Sapra
- we are a perfect promenade, Mandolyn ...
- When Love Opened The Door, Lora Colon
- Bounty of giving, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.50, Monk E. Biz
- The hunter's trap شرك الصياد - للشاعر ال.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
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