Scars

It is odd to be troubled by the nonexistence of scars
Or to take comfort in the patterns
You hope that they'll cut into you
You've memorized them like a catechism, haven't you?
You're wishing for them
For an actual manifestation
To convince you it's not all in your head.
You want to have something to show for it, don't you?
It's still mysterious to you
You're hoping like a frightened child
That you'll even get that far, aren't you?