From the eyes of the griever to the eyes of the believer.

Those eyes, o those eyes;
oceans of pain,
yet endless waves of love.

That face, o that face;
you only see flaws,
yet only beauty is portrayed.

Those hands, o those hands;
the things they do to you,
yet they carry the worlds problems.

Those arms, o. O those arms;
filled with scars of memories,
yet they surround people with pure love.

All this beauty
taken for regret by others,
yet rejected to the one that matters.

When will you learn, they don't matter?
They cause the pain.
They are the scars.

That picture.
That picture that should have captured your moment,
yet ruined by memories forever stolen.

That loving moment.
That should have been filled by loving clarity,
yet looking down seeing only what was a saddened fist of pain.

That million dollar smile.
That should have been filled by happiness of success,
yet frowned upon as it was broken by social impurity.

That moment of clarity.
That should have been filled with light,
yet you were blinded by the agony of your history.

When will you learn?
You are who you are.
Others are only scars.

Scars that are made to ruin your life
...your beautiful and precious life.
Which can only be controlled by one.

The one called you.