I’ll tell your story

wounds

Undress your wounds,
Those scars are masterpieces to me.
-W.E.

Scars are the S-a-C-red  AR-t  of  T-radjedy
Show me yours.
I’m not interested in the beach perfect pretty,
Show me the nitty gritty,
The down and dirty,
The pungent stenches of your,
Inner murky.
I don’t care what the tragedy,
Escapism tracks,
Or forced mastectomies.
Show me the hurt of rituals,
Of clergymen and patriarchies,
Honour shaming and forced chastity.
The uncontrollable binges,
The bulimia bellies.
The anorexia bones,
Of beautiful frailty.

I want to see the self harm rail roads,
The severed souls of hysterectomy.
Show me, your tragedy……
Show me what people are reluctant to see,
Let me write it, my pen is fluid in poetry,
Your story I’ll carve into everyone’s memory.
Teach them to feel through their skin,
The scars, the SCART of humanity.
-W.E.