He saw my cuts
and thought them ugly.
He though them a brand,
a curse.
And he was right,
but only half right.
They brand me yes,
but really they're beautiful.
A day old cut,
a red line, surrounded by a pink outline.
Beyond that
miles of my pure white skin.
The skin starting to bead
and join together
in spots along the cut.
And if you look closer,
you'll see little black flecks.
That's just the outside.
If you look beyond,
you'll see the names
and reasons
behind every cut.
You'll see the sorrow
that filled the person.
The overwhelming pain,
dissapointment.
You name it,
you'll probably see it.
If you'd only look
you would see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I looked and I saw your name. Never forget I love you Rachelle. Paddy 10