scars

no one knows how deep our scars run
and sometimes not even we do
until someone comes and traces the marks
and to our horror, the wounds open up again
too soon

far sooner than we were prepared to staunch the flow
of not just blood, but memories and shame
the very ones that kept us scarred and broken,
long after we’ve forgotten
their names

but for your words and the sound of your voice,
this time something was different
for together with the stigma and the blame
that may have accompanied them, there, too,
was redemption

an acceptance that none of it was my fault
or my own doing, nothing i deserved or asked for.
and i can finally move on because you saw something
i long forgot, that i am worthy and i am worth
fighting for.

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