I snagged my shirt on a branch, today
Whilst racing in the shadow play
With the fairies, I struck alarm
To feel the scratches on my arm
But material are the scars there
An infant graze on skin so bare
Not like the one that has come to stain
My heart, my soul, my ground, my pain
Mesmerised by sleeping thorns
Remind me of old scars I mourn
Reopen! Undoing of the secret seal
For truly, they never did heal
Staining paper, with a rouge so deep
The reddest ink, the blackest sleep
I wonder why the strain is sparse
The blood is real? Or just a farce?
I can't help but wonder why
No pain is felt, but tears I cry
My body is undoubtedly tarred
Just my mind, so it is, that remains scarred
I breathe in, one last time
Clear all thoughts from my mind
Now and then, life is ours.
My faded skin, my old scars
© Copyright 2016 walkingonfate. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Fantasy
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Book / Other
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