Healed
Published in
1 min readMar 29, 2020
A poem
What will I be when I’m better?
When I wear those gilded scars,
shadows of a pain
half-remembered.
What will I say to you, when
I see those same cracks in your smile?
When you ask me what it’s all for,
will I be so callous to the sting
of that burden?
Look at us;
Fresh wounds, old wounds-
Nothing less,
Nothing more.
