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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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