Scars (Part 2)
There will come a time they’ll entice you,
Adore you from dusk till dawn,
Worship at your feet every evening.
They will wallow in your sweat and bathe in your mud.
They will cheer you on and call you theirs,
They’ll post pictures and claim fame,
They’ll roast themselves in your joy,
They will say it all to your face,
But deep down, behind the masks illusioned by darkness,
They will punch their hearts and curse you,
They will wish peril upon your head,
They will go to dates with the other team,
Your name the subject of their cheap talk.
They will religiously follow your page,
Noting down every single façade.
They will look,
They will see,
They will curse,
They will walk away,
Only after putting back their masks.
Then one day you will fall,
Or maybe you will slip,
Or maybe just miss a chance.
Then the masks will fall off right before you,
You will be seated in one corner,
They will be seated in the next,
So close yet so far away.
They will laugh at your sad face,
They will pass notes to each other,
Steal glances at your loneliness,
Then burst out laughing.
They will whisper a little too loud,
They will hope you overhear them.
They will laugh at you behind closed doors,
They will infect the rest with the plague.
Their eyes will burn hard against your skin,
Your heart will race to nowhere in particular,
Your feet will tremble,
Your voice will lose power,
Your words will lack meaning,
Your self will die a slow death.
They will be birthed in your death,
They will claim your throne without notice,
They will not throw direct stones,
But they will slowly build a wall to keep you out.
You will fall,
They will rise.
You will die,
They will live.
You will cry,
They will laugh the last laugh.
When that time comes,
I hope you find one or two who are different.
Those who will see the world through your eyes,
Those who will wipe your tears,
Those who will give your feet strength,
Those who will find meaning in your words.
I hope you find a few who will feel your pain,
Smile with you through the tears,
Those who will sit by you and take the blows for you,
Those who will walk you home,
Those who will speak on your behalf when words fail you.
I hope you pick up yourself from the ground,
I hope you find the courage to dust your clothes,
I hope you retrace your steps,
I hope you find the energy to play the forgiving card.
But I hope you remember,
I hope you remember the atrocities laid against you,
I hope you fill them I your diary,
I hope you clearly mark the dates,
So that someday,
Maybe more often than once,
You will look back and smile.
(Hey good people. I’m running a series named ‘scars’ on this blog. If you have any scar, emotional or physical, that you’d like transformed into a story, hit me up on firstname.lastname@example.org)