Emotional Scars

Emotional Scars

Emotional scars,
Jagged and deep,
Incessant and silent knife
Slicing, hacking --
No, hacked. Action completed.

Bull become taco
Is no longer bull,
Carnivorous aura transgressed.

It can be over.
It can be over
(But it hasn't finished it's destruction).

Just a thing of the past.
It is a scar,
Not a bloody, festering
Open pustule, oozing sickened decay.

It could be over,
It would be over
(But it hasn't yet finished its destruction).

So much self-damage remains
Intact as a baby, completed at birth.

Barely existing in this remaining battered shell,
Mirrored with bold but translucent occular memories,
Disguising life as some tactless tactile toy,
Scourged and discouraged
By what should have been humane,
Even without written rules.

Scars and more scars
Kin to feelings and fears not long lost,
Like freedom, or self-respect,
Never meant to be free.

Small irregularities in human sheathing
Topically, relevantly, branded,
Conceived in myriad assaults,
Humiliations, degradations,
And the spiritual scavaging
That stripped one soul
Almost bare of compassion,
Frugally spent upon others.

Like you or I
Ever even mattered.

If someone should ask,
"Why so down today?"

I would respond
In words of nonsense:

"My scar itches,"
And hide welling tears.