Scars,

Scars,

So many scars.

All hidden by unmerciful bars.

They chain you to your miseries,

But protect you from the outside world.

Some are grateful for them

Some hate them.

But all have convinced themselves that

They need them.

But they do not want them.

Sometimes someone bends the bars

Just enough to slip in.

They notice you.

At least,

Some do.

Some of the people who bend the bars

Don't notice you.

Those are the people you don't want bending

Your bars.

But others

They notice you.

They notice your struggles

And your pain.

And slowly

They help you escape the bars.

And they lead you out

To a better future.

To the sweet taste of

Freedom.