There are no scars on my body

it’s just the look of my soul

surely marred and disfigured

but probably same as most.

There’s no tell-tale marking

to explain what’s beneath

sometimes the things that are hidden

are to hard to speak.

It’s just the limp of my heart

that fails to offer a home

to those who may be trustworthy-

best to not let them close.

There are no scars on my body

It’s just the shape of my soul

the shape of my glory

and the triumph of Hope.