Scars

You are not your trauma.
You are not the pain you’re in.
You are not your torture.
You are not your sin.

You are not the nightmares,
That wake you up at night
You are not the wounds
which you keep hidden out of sight.

You are the pen upon the page,
You are not the ink.
You are not the poison,
They’ve been forcing you to drink.

You are not your hurt.
You are not your tearful moans.
You are not your tragedies
You are not your broken bones.

Your soul’s an engine made of stardust,
Turning darkness into love.
Your heart beats with the drum
of endless turning skies above.

You are not the chains that bind you.
You are not your prison bars.
You are not your persecutors.
You are not your scars.

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