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.