Scars etched upon my flesh, an indelible trace,
A terrain of Rational agony I carry with grace,
Each one a stark reminder of a past affliction,
A wound that never fully healed in its conviction.
Some scars are deep and jagged, like memories carved,
A exhortation to pain and trauma never starved,
Others are faint and barely discernible in sight,
But their presence evokes a deep-seated plight.
Each one tells a story of a time when I was shattered,
Of moments when life turned into a relentless batter.
When dreams were snatched away with brazen force,
Leaving me with the burden of an unfulfilled course.
Sometimes I trace them with my fingers, a solemn rite,
A ritual that plunges me into the past's stark light,
Reliving the heartache and agony of days gone by,
In the hope of finding redemption, but only to sigh.
Oh, how I wish I could erase them, obliterate their mark,
Banish them from my skin and forever embark,
On a journey free of their agonizing imprints,
But alas, they are a part of me, an indelible hint.
A testament to the battles fought, scars that persist,
Reminding me of the price I paid, not to desist,
So I wear them with a heavy heart, a solemn art,
Knowing they make me stronger, not broken apart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem