I thought I mended that scar yesterday,
But its still open, still bleeding, and in need of healing.
I covered it with a band-aid
but my aid couldn't band the sickness on hand.
I covered my scar with the cutest jeans my money couldn’t buy
and pacified the soreness with liquid absorption
I sipped the sweetest juices for an internal solution
but that wouldn’t help my internal contusion.
The makeup didn’t help, it only made it worse.
It was so obvious what I was trying to cover up.
That long-staying LipGlass
couldn’t outlast,
my mascara ran and so did I.
Even Queen’s Collection didn’t keep me collected
and that SPF inserted?
Didn’t keep me protected.
My lack of healing became debilitating to me
I tried to hide it even from close friends and family
It became such a part of me
it became apart of me
the pain became an everyday thing to me
its longevity became a certainty,
its side-effects seemed a finality
These lines speak in past tense
but my scar is still every present
Still searching for that cure
that’ll make my healing permanent.
