TW: c-section trauma

A shiny line crossed her lower abdomen, jagged and dark. The width varied, created by an uncertain scalpel. She dragged a finger along the uneven crease, her nail indenting further. The skin of her stomach seemed to push back, jarring her sliding finger, sticking every few millimeters. The scar felt fragile. Thin. As if it wouldn’t take much pressure to slice her open again. ...

I touch it. Grazing it back and forth with my thumb. It’s a line. Abrupt and slightly distracting. In the dark I can mistake it for a line of muscle. It’s a shadow rather than a real thing. It’s a line rather than an indentation.

If I close my eyes I can imagine a babe. A few days old. Pink with brand newness. Smaller than my stomach it was cut on. I can not hear me cry because I don’t think I d...

For most of his life, The Pirate engaged in risky behavior. All bets were off when you raced up behind a moving vessel, some with anti-piracy protection like nets, water cannons, or even armed guards. A slip or a fall could lead to instant death. A wrong choice could lead to being hung up and maimed and instant death. The work of an assault rifle aimed at you could lead to bullets and instant deat...

The scar ran from upper left side of my forehead to just below my right eye and had sunken deeply into my skin with a burning sensation. It was blood red and made it so I was unable to open my right eye now. Probably for the better, that way both my eyes to have to witness this hideous scar every time I saw my relation.

For weeks now, dark shadows had flown over the clouds of the kingdom. My kin...

It ran from just below her hand up to the tip of her littlest finger. The jagged line pigmentless, throwing into sharp relief the warm coloring of her skin.

The defensive wound never failed to fill her stomach with the ghost of her primal fear but she supposed she should count herself lucky. To this day she couldn’t imagine why the man had attacked. The police had said the drug induced mania had...

Isn’t visible

Ain’t hidden

Is a large part of my identity

Is common

May not be important to you, but it’s the world to me

Is not quite me

Is not embarrassing, but I still don’t want to talk about it

Would be a conversational downer

Isn’t offensive

Has no shape

Is mine...

When I was young, in middle school, mood rings were the fad among girls. In

case you don't know, mood rings had a stone that would change color

depending on the temperature of your skin. The concept was that your mood

would effect your skin temperature and that would change the color of the

stone.

Anyway, I had a mood ring on my left, ring finger. We were working in shop

class making lamps from ...

“We said share scars not traumatic backstory!” _Jackson says generally confused on what he just heard._

“Hey you asked,” _Scarlett mumbled slumped down in the living room chair._

“Well- I- okay true-” _Jackson starts sitting up with his arms on his knees. The couch cushion shifting._

_Solomon hits his head with his cane._

“What the hell! How did you even know I moved?”

“We are sitting next to...

Thin white scars littered her dark skin, in no way reminiscent of the manner for which she had received them.

Some believed her to be one of _those. _People so unhappy with the life they were given that they caused themselves harm to feel alive.

Others saw the scars that covered her stomach and believed her to be the victim of abuse.

None of this was fact, for if they looked deeper they would...

Big man Tom was once Teeny Teen Tommy

And Teeny Teen Tommy was once

Little boy Tim

And Tom teaches to take your time

To teeny teens and little boys

Who remind Tom of Tim

Because he was once like them

Because teeny teen Tommy

Took to life with vigor

Started drinking in his teens

Not so tiny tons of liquor

And since little boy tim dreamt of flight

He took to the sky in the dead ...