Inventory

Item, bruise, one each on forearm, shoulder, and ankle,
Scar on throat, one, from that burn last week,
Headache from worrying about what-happens-next,
And really, the eyes are going far too weak.

Sunburn, extreme, from walking around outside all day
Dent to the ego - why, when I thought she was my friend?
Heartburn, slight, because I have to move on,
And scars are all you take with you, in the end.

Red slashes, from all the times I felt left out,
Even when I wasn't; perhaps it's just me,
Angry welts, three, on brain, body and soul,
Black hole where my laughter used to be.

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