The scars upon my flesh grow dull and pale,

A reminder, though faded, of a lesson learned or a fight endured.

The wounds within my soul remain raw, vivid, and tender.

If they could be seen, they would weep and bleed,

A stark contrast to the markings that decorate my skin.

A lover, a friend, a stranger, a shrink,
No matter their attempts to heal, I react

Like a cornered animal, resisting any aid.

Can I, like a wolf trapped by a bear trap,

Chew through my own memories to escape the pain,

Or will they remain, festering and new,

A constant reminder of the wounds that still bind me?