Scars Poem by Andrew Rose

Isn’t it strange how some things stay in your memory forever,
And weird how things scar your heart?

Can both can be lost in time?

Memories fade but for the use of photographs,
That instant recall to memory land,
Where everything seems all nostalgic and fun.

Yet the heart wears the scars of battle constantly,
Until the battle is over,
And recovery can occur,
The scars won’t ever really heal,
But they can be hidden well under the facade of a tempered shell.

Memory is a filter for the truth,
Truth slowly slides away to be lost somewhere,
This is times hidden luxury;
But the heart,
Still wounded,
Splinters open like a chasm if hurt again.