We are a collection of scars.
Everything leaves is mark.
Damage does not sort itself.
Friendly, stranger, intended, unintended
Can you trace the difference?
Scar tissues connect the whole.
I could remember they were cool.
Roadmap of the past
Flown like a banner high above me.
There were raw and vital.
Life’s best shots taken.
Then somewhere healing stops.
Now they are covered over.
I hide what the world has done.
Your scars ate no better than mine.
There is no interest in the past.
The scars are ugly, as always.
I just know the difference now.
Coloring Outside the Lines 
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