More than the sum of my scars

One scar, two scar, three scar, four

What's another cut; another slice more?

Inside hip and outside thigh

One look in the mirror and my skin makes me cry

My breasts crease the lines of vanities knife

The first surgical change to 'improve' my life

After there onwards the scalpels flash fast,

Not the egoic reaching for a beauty long past

Rerouting and saving and trying to heal

a sad bodies' nerve endings too cut up to feel.

Donors and poisons now float in my streams

thick and angry make my leg ready to burst at the seams

One scar, two scar, three scar, four

What's another cut; another slice more?

Each mark is a call, every wound, each of the nicks

are visible sign of the bits they can fix.