If scars could talk, they would say I bend but don’t break.
If scars could yell, they would scream “I’m not dead yet, but my soul aches for peace.”
If scars could lie, they would promise me no more pain.
If scars could cry, their tears would flow down my body like rivers until I almost drown in their salty heat.
If scars could cheer, they would applaud my strength and wonder why I didn’t melt away.
If scars could laugh, they would play connect the dots up and down my legs while creating a road map into my soul.
If scars could smile, they would celebrate all my victories in spite of my fears.
If scars could tell my story, they would paint a picture of a little girl who dared not to give up, and flourished in the face of adversity.