Scars

By Gargi Joshi

In the fabric of my existence, scars carve their own narrative,

Each mark a testament to resilience, etched deep within.

They whisper of battles fought in the shadows,

Of wounds endured and secrets harbored.

No tears fall for these silent witnesses,

In the crucible of pain, they remain steadfast.

In the quiet corners of my soul, they linger,

Enduring, enduring, enduring.

These scars, like ancient hieroglyphs,

Tell stories of storms weathered,

Of journeys through darkness and back again.

I bare them proudly, for they are mine to own.

Days of despair and nights of anguish,

Yet I confront them boldly, without fear.

Each step forward a testament to strength,

As I navigate the labyrinth of my existence.

Through valleys of doubt and peaks of uncertainty,

I have stumbled, I have fallen, I have risen.

In worn-out shoes and faded shirts,

I press on, relentless in my pursuit.

My wounds may bleed, my heart may ache,

But still, I endure, I persist, I prevail.

In the depths of the night, I find solace,

For ahead, the dawn breaks with promise.

Oh, this heart of mine, battered and scarred,

Yet it beats on, a rhythm of defiance.

Even as darkness threatens to consume,

I find light in the depths of my being.

It wasn't 'It wasn't he, they or the others there blame to bear,

Their names merely echoes in the air.

For the scars they bear, they bear no names,

No faces, no voices, only echoes of pain.

And yes, some  friendship did leave scars,

But from those wounds, I emerged stronger, ready to soar.

I thank them for the lessons learned,

For they made me wiser, and my friendships earned.

But it was yours , whose actions left their mark,

Your words, your deeds, left shadows in the dark.

With mental and emotional scars, you bestowed,

For your narcissistic ego, my soul you sold.

For seventeen years, your actions knew no bounds,

Your actions, a torrent that knows no grounds.

The scars you gave, they run deep,

Into the abyss of my soul, they creep.

They've made me slip into depression's grasp,

A labyrinth of darkness, an endless rasp.

But still, I rise, I fight, I strive,

For in my scars, I find the will to survive.

Yet they are mine, a testament to survival,

A testament to the strength within.

For in the chaos of existence,

I find beauty in imperfection,

And in my scars, I find freedom,

To be unapologetically, unabashedly, me 

By Gargi Joshi