What the Scars Forget

Remember a time

where rooftops were a

place to watch sunsets-

Not imagine yourself

at the bottom?

Remember a time,

before the eighth grade,

when the worst you did

was break open your dads razors

and scratch your wrists-

like the characters in your books?

Remember a time

when holding your breath was

only necessary in the pool-

Not in your home?

Remember a time

when there was only

one voice in your head-

Instead of a symphony of

demons fighting for first chair?

Remember a time

before the cost of feeling

something was thicker than water.

I can't remember a time

I didn’t feel the urge

to leave my mark-

To remind myself everyday

of what I’ve overcome. Do you remember? Because the scars never forget.