I feel the lust to take a good look at myself, glaze and view my scars from over the years.
These scars are not the ones under my chain or the long one on my right leg, they are ones I can see in my eyes.
The ones none visible to the naked eye, yet the ones that run deepest and left the most damage.
However theses scars should not be hidden in shame, after all they are the ones that makes me who I am.
As I stand here looking at these scars I think about the people who caused them, not with hate but with a desire to thank.
I think about the friend from the dark ages who sparked a lust but created a nightmare, she was the first and the hardest fall.
I wish to thank her for destroying me, only for me to be rebuilt with a greater and wider vision.
I will never forget the girl who had me chasing her on and off for so long, that even we can’t quite agree on how the story goes.
I want to thank her for teaching me a lesson on behavior and let her know, she has an eternity place in my heart.
Someday I’ll raise a glass to the golden, yet crazy butterfly for giving me a great time as long as it lasted.
I will thank the butterfly for showing me good from bad and letting me move on.
I must not forget the many flowers I passed by before I found the right one, each and every gave me a new advice to live by.
If I ever met one of them again, I’ll shake their hand and say my thanks for preparing me for the one that counts.
I hope one day I will meet the black sheep again under different terms in a different time, until then I will always have what she said to thing about.
I would like to thank her for giving me insight in what to judge on and when to back off, may all luck be with her.
As I stand here dry and cozy, I think about all the others that I never addressed but know they have my thanks too.
Thank you for these scars.
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