Scars –> From the Stupid Intellectual Autobiography
SCARS
I have scars on my feet from dancing for 14 years
Arabesque-ing, Plié-ing, Irish-ing, Scuff-ing
Made to quit ballet at eight
Because I was not graceful enough
But I still tap
I have a scar under my eye
When my brother hit me with a shovel
On Christmas Eve, in the snow, by accident
My hand over my eye, crying, blood dripping
My mother thought it much worse then it was.
I have scars on my knees and elbows
From being a tomboy
Roller-blading and riding my bicycle
Climbing trees and skateboarding
Falling down on cement and getting right back up
I have scars from bug bites
That itched and itched and itched
Until I finally scratched them open
“Your beautiful legs!!” my Mother says
Sorry Mom, I don’t have patience.
I have a scar from being tripped down the front steps of Masterman
On a bright, spring day, by one of my friends
It was an accident, but I was so mad
Kenny came into the girls bathroom
I bled all over my favorite pants
… And Carmen.
I have scars on my heart
From broken promises, crushed hopes
Lost friends, first loves
From parting ways, and never returning to the place I love
I don’t mind though, they’re forever memories, lessons
They’re forever me.
