Scars
He wore his scars with pride. Each one earned; each
one repaid. Long angry lines across his cheeks told tales of sand and death.
The cheers of the crowd echoed in those scars. Thousands of nameless faces,
jeering and smiling—strange, people smiling at such things. He saw their faces
in his sleep; faces that died so that he may live.
*
She hid her scars behind a smile. It had taken her a
long time to make that smile—to make it something believable. It was her only
and greatest creation. The scars hidden from the world, beckoned to her from
the reflection of every mirror. When she looked inside herself she could see
what no one else could see. She saw what she did not want to see.
*
He hid his scars in the pit of his own guilt. With
every passing day they grew bigger and stronger, until one day they were bigger
and stronger than him. The things he did so long ago would not leave. Like an
ominous cloud he awoke one day knowing he could never escape them. Those scars
beat him down, over and over, again and again. One day he knew he would be
unable to arise.
*
She hid her scars in a shame she did not know how to
hide. Her scars ate at her soul every time she got close to someone that cared.
Those scars were in every hand, in every touch, in every compliment. She tried
to hide them with clothes. She tried to hide them with different cities. All
she could ever see were those dark streets and those even darker rooms.
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