fading

I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, I wear my story on my body.
They're accepting my grief.
The scars that reside on my thighs and arms, every time I look at them it harms.
They remind me of the bridges I've crossed, and the battles I've fought.
But they're vanishing away and I've felt lost.
Lost because the only thing I've had left of those scars is the lighter I now use for cigars.
It's all gone my art is fading away while I've been begging for those scars to stay.
It's funny since I was 12 I've been waiting for this day.
Now my eyes are starting to swell.
But it's just so hard to say farewell.
The depression the anxiety and everything I've been threw.
But every single day my love for those scars just grew.
they were meant to be a stain that would never go away.
They're my cope now all I have is this tiny bit of hope.