Scars

You say you've failed.
That because you're 'weak' your teenage years
Are steeped in blood and pain and tears.
Because of the hurt, you cut yourself,
With disregard for your body's health
And now your wrists are ringed with scars
A solar pattern of blood red scars.
But did you know your braceletted wrist
Is calling out to be held and kissed?
Crushed velour stitches on reams of pure silk,
Tear drops of red in vases of milk.
Outward signals of inner confusion,
A smiling face that is just an illusion.
Consequence - pain - ofan action oft taken,
Consequence, maybe, of a childhood forsaken.
~not ended very well, but it's a work in progress~