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My Battle
My battle scars have never shown
Yet, over the years, they have grown
Though wounds rarely show on me
A world inside demands its fee
Through bramble bush I'm dragged
And the appearance of marks
has always lagged
A fire has been lit
And burned me down to one small bit
As I struggle daily to climb
A great big hill of needles and pine
Holes are drilled right through my soles
Yet, but here, they're smooth as gold
Confusing as this may be
Never can you come to see
On the inside I am thin and torn
Outside I am slightly worn.
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