Scar (4)

While the bees buzzed and the trees sighed,
I was not yet created.
You were only ten
Moving in unknown terrain
Seeking their attention
Desperate to belong.

I was poised at the end of the tree thorn
Waiting to bestow upon your brow
The kiss of pain and blood
That will mark you for the rest of your life
Reminding you that you do
Not need their acceptance.

I, birthed by flesh torn without feeling or sound.
When you emerged from the forest with your prize
Crimson rivers along your nose
Comrades running to your aid, to
Repair the tear rent in the
Tapestry of your face.

I am still here, pale and shiny with age
A reminder of a time
When you sought approval from those
Unworthy of your presence.
I am here reminding you to
Approve of yourself.

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