An injury shall never heal the way we might expect,
But lingers as a lasting patch of vulnerability.
When wounds subside we must abide their phantom-like effects.
Incorporating all their reoccurring misery.
For as a laceration seals, it leaves a telling scar,
A record of the sad event. A lasting signature.
And every suffered harm that heals will add to who we are,
Each jagged line defining us like maps of where we were.
