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The story of scars

The story of scars

I was a child when I got the first one,
forming on my ankle where the glass touched.
I received next when I was eight,
fell down from bicycle and my knee was grazed,
On Twelfth birthday the third one came,
when my head was slammed against the door for fun.
The Fourth, fifth and sixth were consecutive in line,
With wounds embracing my cheek,chin and hollow under the eyes.
Seventh is most memorable of all,
when my skin was cut deep to the bone,
I was fifteen when another one hit;
a series of incurable wounds engraved
the story of forbidden touch all over my skin.
I lost the count after that,
As slowly my body got covered with them.
But then,one day he came bearing hope in his eyes,
begged me to show the scars that I tried so hard to hide,
I was scared that he'd run away from me,
But my stupid heart trusted him a lot,
And I bared my skin and soul for his eyes.
But he put the final nail in the coffin,
Called me ugly, tainted, dirty whore
That day he gave me the final scar,
and left me too broken for ever being whole,
At the end,I was left empty with nothing but a scarred soul.
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