I could never look at a mirror again, once I got that scar in the first place
It just was never going to work, ever
The whole blasted thing destitutely meandering its way around my face
No such battle, just a scorned and unasked for war
It seems the harder the fall the more beautiful you are
Shallow for sure but oh so very true
I always made it a point to stand astutely alongside less handsome friends
Friends who most probably felt the exact same
Imprisoned, held at heinous ransom for the remainder of time
I do think more often than not that while I have my scar to shoulder my blame, they only ever have their mother, their father, and last but certainly not least ferociously crumby chromosomes earmarking rather embarrassing genes
The Harry Potter scar of sorts, it ran right along my cheek
I turn away from others all of the time to disguise the ghastly pain, my existence unravelling, turning out to be terribly meek
Clear as day to them that absolutely nothing appealed to me
Plainly they could see right through the cloak of secrecy
A bad approach on my behalf, I know
But, nonetheless, life did indeed go on for me, and now I see it for what it really was, one woman’s route sadly sounded out
Inflamed by much more of a disjointed ebb and far less of a noble flow