Alone, never

Alone

Wished for often

Never achieved

No secrets in the psyche

We push them backwards into the universal billboard that is our face

Can you see my scars?

I used to try to hide them, now I wear them proudly

Perhaps too proudly

Seeing scars is no great feat

But can you

Iron them out?

Press them into shining stillness?

Perhaps if you could,

Should you?

Are they decoration, perhaps artfully arranged

Do we really want our scars

Undone, doneover, destroyed...