This poem belongs to the original writer. Tagged after the poem.
××××
Pain is a memory,
Only to become leathery.
But only to stay on internally.
Never to become perfectly.
Pain is were we learn our mistakes,
To only become soft as cakes.
To be sliced,
Or to smite.
Scars can be beautiful like
Stars where life takes you uphill.
We are not walking on wires,
We were told by liars.
Let the light take us
And adjust.
Pain can be beautiful,
Or become dreadful.
~°•°By: dakuhikari6°•°~
YOU ARE READING
Life Of Reality
PoetryPoems. From young to old. Happy to unhappy. Friends to family. Poetry to many lines of words. Only one author to write it all. ×××× Ranks: #27 in meaning
