As I lay here, motionless, I take some time to look around.
I can’t barely move but my head, moving everything else hurts,
I can’t feel my legs.
They left me here, naked and bruised. Broken.
In this dim light I can only see myself, and nothing else.
At first I looked at my arms. I got them both covered with recent cuts,
the blood stains unwashed from the last battle,
but around them I found more. Old cuts.
Flesh teared apart by knives,by nails, by claws,
But all healed over time.
Some of them needed stitches, some of them bled for hours.
Some of them were big, some small, but all had a memory stored within.
I survived them all. All were healed.
These new scars will heal as well. They will stay there, however,
to remind me how I fell, how I felt, and how I endured the pain to hold on and live.
These scars remind me I am still alive, even when they tried to kill me.
These scars remind me that everything I did before marks me for life, but also makes me a better warrior.
Past mistakes that I should never do again.
Past histories that I should never forget.
Past wounds, which are now past and gone.
I shall endure this new pain. I shall regain my health, my strength.
And after this, these will only be scars and nothing more.