the alcohol, the needle, and the thread

the scars aren't what make me strong

nor magnificent.

the alcohol,

the needle,

and the thread.

the painful care I've shown my body

through the suffering I've endured.

the manner in which I've chosen to heal.

this is what makes me beautiful.

the fact that these lesions are

no longer open wounds of shrapnel

bleeding onto the next boy

who fell and scraped his knee,

but a roadmap showing that

when life shut my eyes,

silenced my voice and

laid me down,

i chose to dream.

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