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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2202302
I have the reality of my wounds.

Time arrived
to cross a bridge
I'd been building
all my life.
Blessed with wind
I set it ablaze
smiled at its collapse
into a river of tears
no longer mine.
Who needs a damn tattoo?

Crawling out
of that valley
over many slopes
I searched for
my own water.
I stumbled
but didn't fall
but didn't starve.
My scars warrant
to wounds physical
wounds emotional.
Who needs a damn tattoo?

Call me antisocial but
I refuse to advertise
display my life story
to anyone not
otherwise concerned
about the moral behind
a vacant stare
creviced face
scars of the body
or twists of the mind.
Who needs a damn tattoo?

34 Lines

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2202302