From Google Images


It doesn’t need to be pretty

I dreamt of a gaping wound on my arm last night

The cut was deep and red with hints of black spanning from my elbow to my forearm

My skin clung limply to chunks of the muscle

It was ugly

I worried and fretted that it would get infected

A flesh eating virus that would kill me

Or maybe blood poisoning

I looked for anyone around to help me put myself back together

I was at a  loss as to how it could even heal

No one helped me

So I thought I would have to stay injured forever

But then I took the skin

The skin I thought was dead

I pressed it together

And it stuck

Grew back

I watched as my arm became whole again

Leaving only an angry scar

I hadn’t needed anyone to help me

The ability to heal myself had always been there

And then I woke up

See, it doesn’t have to be pretty

So long as it’s true


One thought on “Scar

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