They tell my tale,white againt tanned flesh
They make up my past,they hint at my future
They run deep and they never go away
Telling of past choices I can never change
I'm proud of some,ashamed of others
Some still hurt and some bring joyous memories
On my knuckle a story of past battles fought
On my chest of a good friend lost
On my heart the worst of all
I can rid myself of them
They are mine to bear forever
Telling strangers my life
Ripping privacy from my grasp
They are me,with out wich I couldnt be myself
I hate some and love others
Read and see,for my scars are what defines me
comment if you wish
Comments
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On my knuckle a story of past battles fought
On my chest of a good friend lost
On my heart the worst of all
^ I really like that part.. great work my friend.. keep writing.
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Nice
Nice, it doesn't ryhme. But then agian, poems don't have to. It doesn't suck as bad as you said your poems did. ^^
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