i have my scars
but not on my skin
burned into my being
and lacerated on my heart
in the shape of tear tracks
down my cheek at
1 in the morning
when my depression climbs
out of my lungs
and into my throat
choking as i cry
so i make no sound and
stay a remnant of
who i once was
shrouded in the shadows
of inescapable inevitability