The Ballads of Scars.

In the silent whispers of the night's embrace,

Scars, once raw, now stand as testament to grace.

Each wound a tale of trials borne,

In the tapestry of time, they're gently adorned.

With every tear that stains the parchment white,

A story unfolds, bathed in ethereal light.

For in the realm where dreams and reality entwine,

Our scars become the verses, our wounds the rhyme.

Through the passage of ages, they stand tall,

Each scar a beacon, guiding one and all.

And as the stars above us dance and sway,

Our wounds become the ballads we sing each day.....