I look at my skin, a canvas once pure,
Now etched with the pain, a story obscure.
Each mark a reminder of battles I've lost,
Of times I was shattered, no matter the cost.
The scars, they haunt me, whispering loud,
A tale of brokenness, hidden in a cloud.
I wish for a body that felt whole, unscarred,
Yet these remnants of hurt seem too deep, too hard.
They scare me, these remnants that time won't erase,
A reminder of moments I couldn't outpace.
Would I be more if the skin was smooth,
Would I be more worthy if I could just remove?