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Veiled scars

The scars I have are veiled, they’re nobodies to see. It is but an itching scratch that rarely bothers me.

woman sitting on wooden planks
Photo by Keenan Constance on Pexels.com

The scars I have are veiled, they’re nobodies to see.

It is but an itching scratch that rarely bothers me.

But sometimes when I see another with his smile.

Or catch a sudden scent when somebody walks by.

A man lifts a little girl high up in the sky.

A joyful sound of cheer rings right up in my ears.

I pray for some relief but there is none to spare.

A knife pierces through me then,

I fall down and gasp for air.



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