I walk with an emotional limp
Battle-scarred soul with shrapnel dug deep
Healing isn’t always clean
I have to decide which limbs I want to keep
Armored in deformations
Scaled in scorch marks that make me itch
reaching out with battered hands
I can see the way your eyes twitch
Look not upon me
the reflection in your eyes
Bear the burdened truth
It’s the intensity, not the size
Relative pain
born with burdens built in ladders
Relative pain
Per capita is the number that matters
The thief of joy
many faces from the dark
Comparison, what ifs, solipsisms
all leave their mark
Regret is the bleeding wound of yesterday’s battle
Carried through the threshold of today
Tomorrow is the friction of fiction
That keeps your action far away.
Living now to count the scars
not in memory, but proof of life
You made it this far mostly intact
So don’t be a victim of your mind’s knife