Soul-Shaped Scar

His eyes had a gentle sparkle,

The heat in the heart of a dying star.

His hands had a strength so weak,

And his chest bore a reddened, soul-shaped scar.

But the wind hurtled by without thought,

And the rain beat on down upon him with a hate,

And the others just walked by again;

He’d resigned himself – he welcomed fate.

The hail hit me hard as I ran,

I barged into him without any regret,

And charged along as he, bruised, lay,

And the cold, cobbled street left him grimy and wet.

I never thought once of that man.

My one goal that day was to escape the rain.

Now life will, each second, go on.

’Til I see once again the man’s eyes seared with pain.

My heart, it will then be weary,

Heaving the breaths of a dying star.

I wish that I could have saved him.

The man, in the road, with the soul-shaped scar.

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About pasameerday

I haven't got a lot of time to keep you interested, so I'll be quick. I'm a writer from the UK, primarily of fantasy and sci-fi short stories, and occasionally of strange, nonsensical poetry. I like cats, the Sims, and pizza, and I go to sleep to the sound of a keyboard. I've been writing for my entire life; to be honest, I don't think I could ever bring myself to stop. I have a feeling I'm losing you, so I'll bring this to an end before you slowly start to back up, hoping I'll stop talking long enough for you to make a quick getaway. Wait... Where are you going? Hey! Wait! ... Stop!!
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3 Responses to Soul-Shaped Scar

  1. Drew says:

    This one reaches out and pulls in the reader with rhythm and rhyme in the first four lines. I like it.
    It reminds me of a friend I met in Central America who had a huge scar due to open-heart surgery at age 15. I met him when he was in his 30’s. He died unexpectedly from the same heart complication on mother’s Day 2002. One of the only real friends of mine (so far) who have passed away.

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