9. June 2015
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The scar
A thin white line crawls from his back,
Up to his neck,
Where a shard once cut the flesh,
The throbbing pain so heavy, fresh.
Time had healed the cut,
The open skin neatly shut,
Only the light, shimmering scar
Was left, visible from the afar.
Wherever he walked,
People had talked,
Never did they ever ask,
They never looked behind the mask.
Under the outside lay a beautiful heart,
He was complete with every flaw, every single part.