Shardless
I love scars.
I love the tales that they tell Like stories written upon you The tragic and revered; I’ll read the story on your skin
I have a heart of glass Sometimes, it’s cold to the touch But when you look inside You’ll see my wonders and woes My hopes and my truths Sometimes, the warmth
Like a silken web adorned with dew I’m everything you never knew
So handle me with care, if you dare For I am made of glass Drop me once and we’ll both get cut By the shards that I was, that I am
And then we’ll have matching scars A pair that’s been divided But I can handle all my scars--
At least, that’s what I decided When I first learned of pain and vices.
















