The Scars of a Writer.

I've not sure which of me is real,
And I'm alone again,
Burning out again

My hope runs underneath it all,
The day that I'll be home

It won't be long, I belong,
Somewhere past the setting sun

Finally free, finally strong,
Somewhere back where I belong

The Setting Sun – Switchfoot

My scars tell stories that keep me awake

Haunted by dreams, of a life once lived

 

Pain, is who I am, pain is who I’ll be

The devil’s eyes are alive in my soul

 

I used to love you, but now I am lost

I used to love me, but life will bring change

 

I used to live, with fire in my eyes

But good and bad, are not the same

 

I no longer play the same notes

I’m no longer the same, as yesterday

 

Who am I, should be so simple

A sentence across an empty page

 

All night I spend, trying to write my story

But in the end, those lines are still blank

 

In the end, my answer will always remain the same

If you want to know who I am,

 

Look at my scars.

 

Reviews

[Domo]

I loved this one, it showed your beauty, and actually said a lot about you. I love the reference of just look at my scars. Great poem, this was definitely worth writing.
~D♥m♥~