The Scars That No One Knows
It’s neither late nor early,
Time doesn’t matter,
The television blares with meaningless chatter.
The cursor blinks in time with my eye,
The page is empty,
No explanation of why.
Grasping consequences from the path which I have come,
I want to feel nothing,
Close my eyes and finish the bottle of rum.
The scars on my body are not near those of my mind,
On the outside there are few,
inside so many to which you are blind.
As the warm sun rises and the first bird sings,
I pause to notice it’s song but know still,
For those I care, I will do unspeakable things.
One good deed seemingly punished by another,
Yet there would be no hesitation,
To save the life of a sister or brother.
Ignorant stigma draws cold judgment and remand,
Yet I am still here,
Already having endured more that most could stand.
Yes, there is a price to pay, and daily the cost grows,
The debts are paid in full,
Leaving the scars which no one knows.