Tonight, I sit under the sky,

The sky full of stars that look like tiny silver studs.

I wonder if all my scars looked like that,

Tiny little scars that took up space on my skin, they shine so bright, impossible to miss.

Scars that have been seen by people that know me,

People that actually saw me.

Every time they ask, “How did you get this scar?”

I got this scar because I let pain eat too deep into my skin.

The one on my shoulder was from when I carried the burden of others and forgot I was important too.

The one on my fingers was from when I carried others with tenderness and got burnt instead.

The one on my chest was from when I gave all of my heart out,

Leaving nothing for myself in the end.

The one on my knees was from when I waited endlessly for their validation,

Though I had never waited for myself.

The one on my feet was from when I kept running around to keep them safe yet I failed to take a step for my own protection.

My favorite scar was the one on my eyelids. These eyes had seen things and had decided to go blind.

I chose to be blind to the intentions I could clearly see.

I can see clearly now. It took me so long, but I’m here.

Under this sky with tiny silver studs tonight, I can see my shadow. My reflection.

This is the last night where I am blind.

Tomorrow, I’m going to be born again.