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Scars
I've got my share
and I'm sure you've got yours too.
What brought them to mind
was hearing an ex-football player on the radio the
other day
talking about his many scars from the many surgeries
he's had to endure for having played his sport.
I'd never really thought about all the scars
I have myself
until the moment I heard him recount his own tales of
woe.
And then I made a list of my own:
1) I have a large gash on my right knee from falling
on a large piece of broken glass while I was in the
4th grade.
2) There's another gash on my left knee that I
received during 2nd grade when I was cutting wood with
an axe and happened to miss the wood.
3) Another huge cut is on my left large toe, which
occurred when, at the age of five, I dropped a large
glass piggy bank on the toe in order to get my
miserable parents to stop their incessant arguing. It
worked-temporarily-but the toe's never been the same.
4) Then there's a scar above my right knee, to the
left, that's from where my right femur bone stuck out
slightly after being broken during one of my own
football games in 9th grade. (Isn't life wonderful?)
5) Cuts on my back from broken shards of glass still
hanging from the shattered rear window of a car I was
climbing out of after a crash when I was seventeen.
6) Two rather ugly wounds, one on my left hand's
middle finger and the other on my right hand's little
finger, that were both incurred when my godless,
drunken mother insisted that the warts I had in 1st
grade be burnt off.
7) Sadly, there's also a long, hideous scar located
next to my sex organs. The story goes that I was born
with my right testicle apparently too low, and so at
the age of six months I went in for surgery and my
right testicle was reattached to whatever it was
supposed to be attached to in the first place. Or so I
was told.
8) Then, perhaps the strangest scars are the three on
the back of my left hand that appear to be in the
shape of some forgotten symbol, apparently cut into my
skin with a sharp, precise razor or knife. They've
been there since my earliest memories, but I can give
no explanation for their existence.
Still though, most horrible of all,
are those small, invisible wounds left upon the heart
that can never be seen and will never be healed.
Don't you agree?
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