So you have some marks on you from life’s battles
Can’t have lived without acquiring a few
And you have lived, so show them some fondness
Remember they help make you the unique person you are
So be proud and keep fighting. You’re worth it!
** the following story might be disturbing for those sensitive to domestic abuse**
The scars didn’t show. He made sure of that, yet they were a work of art. It was hard to cut with such precision, but he was a master of his craft. He was proud of his handiwork, even if he was the only one to view it.
She bore the scars and wondered why he did this to her. She also wondered why she put up with it, but she couldn’t make herself leave. Every time she thought about it, his voice would pop into her head. It was just words after all, and he was right. Those words didn’t really cut her and make her bleed, yet she hemorrhaged out her hope long ago, and she didn’t have much self-esteem left in her deflated, marred ego. Every night she prayed for everything to end, but her prayers were never answered.
He watched her cry herself to sleep. Sometimes he would feel guilty about what he did. Other artists maimed themselves for their art. He knew he lost pieces of his soul for his creation, but it was a sacrifice that must be done. He was so grateful for his canvas.
He slipped beside her and held her tight.
Gregarious as Gregg was
Everyone who thought they knew him pegged him as extremely shy
Never going to parties or family gatherings
Underneath his calm, cool, and collected mask
It scared him that his friends and family would see the scars there
Now he met Cyndi, and she was close to removing it
Eventually he would show her the real him, but would she stay then?