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These Scars Are Me
All these scars remind me of bad days.
Each one calls me stupid every day for making them over and over again.
Though that’s just my arms.
My stomach says congrats for finding a new hiding spot.
My legs say names and words of love and hate.
These scars say my feelings I could never let out.
These scars are not proud.
These scars are a sad excuse of me not talking about what I feel and what’s going on with me.
These scars are what are left on me of my past.
I’m not proud of these scars but I love them no matter what.
These scars on my arms count to be over 100.
These scars on my stomach count to be over 30.
These scars on my legs count to be over 15.
So together on my body is almost 200.
But now they are part of me.
These scars are me.
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