Scars
![Picture](/uploads/2/9/6/6/29663797/316754823.jpg)
I know a girl whose arms, legs, and hips are covered in scars. Some are a deep purple, some are pink like a sunset, and some are fading away. There are also some that are there to stay. They go in all directions. Up, down, diagonal, and side to side. It’s almost like she made a contour art project on her body. Don’t worry you won’t see them anytime soon. She is talented at finding ways to hide them.
The day I first saw the scars my heart shattered in my chest like a glass vase hitting the floor, as tears welled up in my eyes. Every time I see a new one on her porcelain skin, I try hard not to cry. Sometimes she lets me draw pretty pictures or encouraging notes that will make her smile on them. One time I covered her scars in red hearts, orange and pink flowers, a purple house, and an orange picket fence. I also made it look like the word Love was stitched on her arm. I hope that one day almost all of the scars will be gone and her skin will be clear and as white as snow. But right now she’s a very sad girl.
The day I first saw the scars my heart shattered in my chest like a glass vase hitting the floor, as tears welled up in my eyes. Every time I see a new one on her porcelain skin, I try hard not to cry. Sometimes she lets me draw pretty pictures or encouraging notes that will make her smile on them. One time I covered her scars in red hearts, orange and pink flowers, a purple house, and an orange picket fence. I also made it look like the word Love was stitched on her arm. I hope that one day almost all of the scars will be gone and her skin will be clear and as white as snow. But right now she’s a very sad girl.