Scars

There are people who are hurting but you’ll never see their scars.

Some people put up a front, they engage in a battle, a slow descent down a black hole. You never see the driving force behind their battle.

One thing is certain for such people, the driving force is always there. It’s all they hear, feel, see, smell and touch.

I have seen some of these scars. I have walked away from some, but Peaches had me at odds. He said “you are an Empath. You want to drain people of the hurt and leave them with some hope. You can’t save them all without breaking.” He said that the saddest part was how often he saw me do it.

I give him bits and pieces of myself and he’s cut by the shards of the pieces I hand him. He says I give him memories, feelings, insights, and truths of things he’d rather not be privy of.

So, here I am, bleeding on paper because it’s easier for me to take a pencil and use it to forge steel.

There are people who are hurting but you’ll never see their scars.

There are people who are so far gone that each piece, word, look, contempt,  sinks them deeper into the black hole they’re descending.

There are people who see such people and they take their pain as their’s, but it’s never enough, it’s never quite the same walking a mile in their shoe.

There are people who seek refuge in words, who spin tales, craft narratives, create worlds…people,there are people and there’s hurt.

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