Needles filled with concoctions pierce the arm
Injecting what they claim to wash away the pain.
When so far the body has grown weary of pills.
Broken and exhausted I am
As I feel my feathers slowly unplugged from my wings
Laying bare the skin beneath what once covered.
What more can be done
If not to silently endure the pain
For we all learn to carry one pain or the other
Fear not the mark of the wounds turning into scars
For the strongest of persons sometimes need a shoulder to cry on
Someone to remind them they ain’t in this alone
And that it’s alright to have a scar.