Battle angel
A scar runs down her face,
Blood trickling down the space.
The wound might be new, but the fight is old,
Was this how her story was supposed to unfold?
A scar runs down her face,
Blood trickling down the space.
The wound might be new, but the fight is old,
Was this how her story was supposed to unfold?
Yes, they might be
But what are you without them?
Nothing but an ordinary person.
Your flaws are your uniqueness.
The moon asked the stars,
“What makes you like my scars?”
The stars smiled widely,
As the moon waited for the answer eagerly.