Scars

Scars form like an emotional armor.
 Like painting over dirt
Layer by layer.
               She...
   Grey inside and in her disposition...
        as overcast skies proclaiming  indecision.
        She loves to ride that fine lightning line...
        between dreaded rain, and bright white sunshine.

The parts that get hurt the easiest
 are always the parts that are the softest...
and therefore get scarred over the most...
And Love drifts by unnoticed...
                   a ghost.

The sweet, naive boy who believed love was around every corner
...who freely gave his heart away to every she and every her
...who then threw it back to him, sliced and bruised-
Even the most naive of hearts
 Knows when it's been used.

He searched for hands that would handle his heart with kindness... 
he found that he was instead introduced to the blade of selfishness
The scars grow ever thicker,
 and the man said not a word. 
Inside the boy is screaming
 desperate to be heard. 

And now a rumbling within
 A violent shaking Inside of him
 Floodgates breaking 
The animal is waking
Let this new heart begin

And all that he thought had been asleep
 Has begun it's climb up from the deep.