Scars (a poem)

Chdamn

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2A Bourbon Hound OG
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Most of them are evident, these marks upon my skin
Like passport stamps from trips to hell and coming home again.

From sports, hard work and living life or that one time in a bar
If I go sans shirt you’ll see the signs that I was in the Corps.

Ask me about any one of these then sit back and be regaled
I’ll tell you all about them, in vivid color and detail.

Yet other scars are hidden deep, these marks upon my soul
From moments in this mortal life that exact a horrible toll

These I do not talk about, unless deep inside a flask
For speaking of them openly is a terribly painful task.

They’re an ever present companion, a rider that’s paid no fare
And those that I have shared them with are extraordinarily rare

It’s not that I am ashamed of them, they made the man you see.
But only those very close to me will be allowed my fragility.
 
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