I’ve done it again

Fixated too long on the scars

Across my body.

I map out the locations

Of these scars,

Much like astronomers map out

The location of stars

I run my fingers across them

Like a boat gently cruising down a shallow

river.

These imperfections are from one time or another.

As a kid, hitting my eye into a wooden table

And leaving a distinct mark,

Or maybe slicing my finger and watching

The bright red blood gush out

In endless streams.

These half-healed wounds don’t just exist.

They tell a story.

Of survival,

Of hardships,

Of the harshness of real life.

I walk slowly and carefully

But not too slowly or too carefully

Life has its dangers

And I must experience them,

Even if they leave me

Scarred