Have you seen my scars?
I suppose no!
Because then you wouldn’t have wished me on seeing a shooting star.
The broken soul I silently carry
Is the baggage of a past that is scary.
It frightens me to recount the memories,
Which haunt and choke me in my reveries.
Yes, I am full of scars up to the brim,
From a vulnerable core to the edgy rim.
Yet it surprises me to see you here,
Lingering around my existence with no sign of fear.
Didn’t you care enough to look beneath,
To see the ugly side of mine sheathed.
Perhaps, the thought might not have struck you,
That I have more to myself about which you don’t have a clue.
Because the day you’ll come across my scars,
You wouldn’t wish to walk beside me under the stars!