A Poem. Although I Couldn't Think of a Title.

You wear your scars on your wrist.
I hide mine in my heart.
You've embraced your mistakes,
While I only deny, deny, deny...
I've been told the scars which show,
Are worse than those that don't.
But at the end of the day,
Scars are still scars,
No matter where they are.
And people are still people,
no matter what they've done.
So don your scars,
Wear them with pride.
They're apart of you now,
And they will be til you die.