Story of My Scars

A close friend of mine once asked if she could share
The story of her life right there with me
I knew of her battered body and thought to myself
What dark secrets could there be?

On the park bench in the pure light of the day
She pulled up the sleeve of her sweater,
Said, "I want you to meet my dad. He's there.
This was when he wasn't feeling better."
Then she rolled up her pants leg to expose her calf
Carrying a blue bruise similar to her arm
"This is daddy just a little too drunk on Sunday
But he swears he wouldn't do me any harm."

Next she lifted up her long brown braid
To expose a scar much smaller in size
"He was hurting mom, so I tried to help her,
I'd turned as he aimed for my sullen eyes."

When I thought she was done telling her story
As the tears flooded my friends face
She showed me one more as she wiped off her makeup
Never knew of this one's dear place.

"This is when I tried to leave home, to get help.
Dad didn't like the thought of me going.
Please tell me you never knew it was there
Makeup's all I got to keep it from showing."

I held her hand tighter as I wiped her tears and mine
And said, "No, I've never seen it before.
You're more beautiful and special than any other girl
You can't take this abuse anymore."

So we walked to the police station a block away
And showed the bruises as evidence of the pain.
My friend's been healed from the outside for years
But inside she'll never be quite the same.

Still, she smiles more than she used to do
And she now helps others know they can take a stand
Just yesterday she saw her father for the first time
And she says that he's a much better man.

He doesn't hit her and she doesn't hurt
He swears his love is all he'll ever give
But if she hadn't stood up for what was right
My friend may not have even lived.