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241
Learning The Language Of Scar
<p>I reached for my pen to write,</p><p>but the ink seemed to hold me back,</p><p>as if even the page knew</p><p>some wounds are too profound for words.</p><p>Still, I kept writing.</p><p>Line after line,</p><p>I poured my thoughts onto the paper,</p><p>hoping each sentence would ease the burden I carry.</p><p>Yet, the pain persisted—</p><p>fresh as the day it appeared,</p><p>unmoved by time</p><p>and unsoftened by silence.</p><p>From its broken corner,</p><p>my heart still beats on.</p><p>I hear its faint rhythm in the quiet—</p><p>a weary pulse that refuses to give up,</p><p>even when every memory feels like a bruise pressed too hard.</p><p>Some days I wonder if healing exists</p><p>or if we just get used to the ache.</p><p>Do scars ever stop speaking,</p><p>or do we learn their language?</p><p>Will this pain someday loosen its hold,</p><p>or will it stay like a shadow at sunset?</p><p>Will I rise above what broke me,</p><p>or spend my days learning how to carry it?</p><p>And for those who’ve stood where I am now</p><p>how do you overcome heartbreak or pain?</p>
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