they're calling it scripture
hearts big enough for the world to find a home in. they choose vandalism instead. carved out graffiti, they’re calling it scripture. painting images of moments i can’t forget. rubbing alcohol for the wounds i can’t erase. bruise cream for the scars painted in purple hues. graffiti now stretch marks, stretching for miles beyond repair. callouses and broken skin tears, gashes overflowing a stream of the leftover love you had to spare. hearts make more room for their paintbrushes, (more like sticks and stones.) rub off the wounds but they’ve been ingrained. “scarred for life” is a metaphor for the perpetrators. “scarred for life” is a metaphor we’ve reclaimed.