I have my scars, some seen and some not but they are there.
I haven’t been an angel this is no secret but the scars I bare are deep.
Sometimes I wonder why am I even here.
What purpose is my life?
Why have I suffered so many pains?
Must I die for them to parish?
Beneath my scars is a man that needs someone to see.
I lay in bed and think so many thoughts.
Can these scars remain but the pain subside.
I like so many men feel, but we are taught not to show what we feel or think when the pain is present.
We act or react at times when we shouldn’t but it’s that hidden pain that forces us.
Sometimes anger comes out even though there isn’t any anger in us.