The call is heard by few - but many
Grapple their lives in darkened stairways
The silent prayers that they reach twenty,
Will only count the years, “how many?”
If we were allowed to turn these scars,
Into something flown beyond the stars,
What might we see of the scarless?
The perfect and serene, who all so
Proudly told us to “tread carefully.”
What do they know of hateful demons,
Those who kill the heart with blinding love?
With shells left behind that seethe treason,
Oh, if they knew! Then what would I see?