Beyond the Scars

Beyond the Scars

By E Kraft

Let the crimson flow freely…maybe you can wash 

away the mud dimming your mind…or at least cover 

the pain somehow.  But the clay only thickens, fattened 

by the confusion, grief, ire.  You see some people don’t 

fight back; some people want to play make-believe and 

pretend they are loved–do whatever necessary to quash 

the pain…even if they know the truth otherwise.  It’s not 

healthy, you know it’s not but in those frenzied moments, 

logic shrivels in the concrete slurry and your mind just 

intent on muffling, smothering the chaos inside.  The 

scars, they tell a tale, a stifled scream etched into the skin 

hidden behind long sleeves and forced smiles, pretending 

that everything’s okay when it’s anything but… But one 

day you’ll find the strength to claw free from this live 

burial and face Lucifer’s disciples without resorting to 

self-destruction.  One day the mud won’t cake your eyes 

any more, one day you’ll grow up.  But until then, you 

can keep believing whatever you must, doing whatever 

to breathe until you’re ready to swim through the rank 

sludge and search for that elusive glimmer of light in the 

iniquitous abyss.  Until then, let your words flow freely, 

let them massage the ache.