I thought that it

must have been

International Burns Day

with the victims on parade,

their different scars on display.

Marks I had not seen before.

Hair up, showing pigmentless flesh

below the ear.

Flashmark along the arm.

Puckered skin running down the rear

of a shoulder.

Are these the marks

that all lives leave,

everyday little tricks

usually hidden up a sleeve?

Did everyone see?

Or was I gifted to view

a deeper reality?

What use was that to me?

It was a conversation starter,

but not much of one.

I prefer “Do you come here often?”,

its not as scary.

I saw through the cosmetics,

the veneer of confidence

granted by beauty.

I saw everyone’s little horror story.

I averted my eyes

from windows and mirrors.

Would I have to blind myself?

Perhaps I could find a pretty girl

to do it for me.