Scars Tell A Story
White picket fences
Lofty facades
Painted shutters
Seeking applause
As you knock on the door
It slowly cracks
You wonder how many doors
This mansion packs
Step inside
What do you see?
Everything in the entry
Kept nice and clean
Sit on the couch
Creaks underneath
Plastic protection
Acts as a shielding sheet
Everything’s lovely
But nothing is real
Fashionably designed
For public appeal
You begin to inquire
Question your host
Do you even live here
Or are you a ghost?
With a glimmer in their eye
The dam begins to break
They walk down the dark hall
With tears running down their face
With a single-edge razor blade
Straight to the skin
They scrape off the make up
To reveal what’s within
“In the darkest of rooms
This mansion holds
The deepest of pain
No one can ever know
It’s locked in the closet
Kept out of sight
No air to breathe
No access to light
The pain, it festers
The bitterness grows
It zaps all strength
And it takes its toll
The wounds lay open
Though nobody knows
Though healing is sought
The tension just grows
I want to know freedom
But I lost the key
To the door that holds
The deepest part of me”
So freedom is sought
A Light in view
To chase out the darkness
To see things a new
The journey will be long
Vision will have to be renewed
Moment by moment
Remembering His mercies are new (Lamentations 3:22-23)
And though the wounds hurt now
They will eventually be scars
Which show that both
Hurt and healing are ours
Joy Lynn
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