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Identity
Your identity
Smeared by the scars.
The person inside
Flawed
By the carves in your skin.
The deep wounds on your limbs
Obscure the real you.
Your porcelain beauty
Tainted
For eternity
By memories of suffering
No regrets?
Grandchildren ask:
“What’s that scar?”
What are you going to tell them?
Corrupt their innocent minds
With tales of torture and harm.
“Was that in a war?”
“Yes. The war between myself and this world.”
