We need no titles here
Our scars define us
Unoriginal though they may be.

Do you really want to see

me bare my soul and
its cigarette burns
how they mirror the lesions from the
acid she threw in your eyes?

We hurt as we love,
don’t we?

testing depth,
punching holes
where we think we need the light.

breaking as we build,

and wondering why

they always leave.

the monsters
they cower from

wearing our names.