Scars
She grew up abused.
Not physically,
But verbally.
Her scars were deeper
than the eye can see.
It took an effect
On her life.
Words are like a knife.
They cut deep, if not used properly.
It was her own blood
Who made her ashamed,
Of her body,
Her looks,
Her beauty within.
They stripped that of her
Took it away, without her permission.
Cuts heal,
But the scars left behind
Will always remind her
Of the torment,
And neglect.
Love is what she longed for,
But she knew
Her beauty, were her scars.
It shaped her,
Molded her,
Made her into the masterpiece she is.
The scars of her beauty,
That no one can take.