My Past

The scars on my arm represent a story,
Maybe not to you…
But for me they hold a memory.
Whether I was crying…
Or so worn out from life,
That I had given up trying.
You can wipe away my tears,
But you can’t rid me of my past,
And all those painful fears throughout the years.
You tell me that you love me,
But I know that it will never, ever in a million years, last.