Sår, vondt, uhyggelig.. trist. Skadet. Ulykker og sommer. Ting fra fortiden. Fremtiden som kommer. Uttrykk. Noe som ikke leger.
Marlene
i couldn’t believe how many scars i had on my arms when i came round in the hospital. apparently i had lost pints and pints of blood and was lucky that gloria had found me when she did. i think that now might be the time to face up to the fact that my drinking has got out of hand, just like ken after all.
Under that scar is a lifetime of broken dreams and a story waiting to be told. He was a good man, hardworking and loyal.
D'vorah
An emotional or a physical scar; it doesn’t matter – but emotional scars are the hardest to heal… Physical scars can fade over time, can become lighter and less of a burden, but emotional scars stay with you. Possibly forever. With help, though, these scars can become lighter too – and that’s where your loved ones come in, the people who truly care about you.
Lindsey Bartholomew
Funny this should come up cause I have a scar on my arm from the time I dug my nail into it when I was afraid I would fall out of the very small hotel bed and I wish I could sue the hotel but instead I’ll use Vitamin E all to try to make the scar fade because I don’t want it to show when it’s warm and I wear sleeveless dresses.
Robin
I looked at the raised flesh,
wounded so long ago.
I felt my eyebrows pull together as it
stung, still.
How?
How can that be?
Even after everything, he was still with me.
And he always would be.
Forever.
Scar isn’t evil, he was just being mean. That was the quote of the three-year old character in a novel I read this year. Three-year olds don’t think that way, but the quote is interesting.
She traced the deep scar across his cheek, the skin felt so different there that she almost pulled away. She tentatively rested the palm of her hand, covering the scar, protecting him. Leaning, her lips met his. Rousing him from sleep, his tongue found hers and kissed her deeply.
The scar on her face was very gross. I was afraid to ask what happened to cause such a creepy feature that is now part of her face. But I could not help but stare. That was embarrassing until she smiled. Then I did not even notice it any more!
kathy
A physical manifestation of a moment, or moments. Your body’s way of painting a reminder across your canvas of life. Scars can remind you of happy moments yet still we feel compelled to cover them up or to erase them. They fade in time. Everything fades in time.
Ashlee
we each have a deep scar that cannot be erased. but without it who would bother training themselves to write by signing up for one word. without scars no literature and art exists. it’s out job to cherish a scar.
kaorita
wound, lingers, black mark, permanent, superficial yet deep impact.
Raghu
All of us have been wounded in one way or another. These wounds leave a scar which may last forever. Scars, then, are a symbol of experience…a sign that we have fallen down so many time and yet stood up after the fall.
What an easy word to write about.
I’ve too many razor blade scars to count.
I won’t even bother.
I won’t even bother to make this poetic in any way.
I won’t even bother to pretend to care.
I won’t.
And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could’ve gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar when everyone wants a little more?
And so that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?
Scar – Missy Higgins.
ashleigh...
Look at it.
Look at it you god damned idiot.
You see that?
That’s you.
This is what you did.
Are you proud?
Are you proud of the wound you gave me?
Are you proud of the scar it turned into?
Because I’m ashamed of it.
And you?
You could care less.
Preston
I think I first saw it in a picture, an unintelligible line running down the midde. It was almost imperceptible, but upon closer inspection, there was no mistaking its existence.
I must’ve looked at the picture a thousand times, and each time, the line seemed to grow and proliferate.
It was the scar, not of a physical wound, but one that ran deep in her heart.
I think he is still single. It was on the 7th year of our relationship that he popped the question. “Would you marry me?” After all these years of companionship, a voice inside me said NO. My heart was ache. Aching for a reason to say no.
prrudy
i have a scar on my heart,
from some inner turmoil my mind doesn’t even know about.
I have a scar on my left ring finger from when I was hurriedly getting decorations ready for my best friend’s wedding. I’ve just now realized how ironic that is.
I love the scars that are on my body they make me who I am and I wouldn’t change them for the life of me. Other people may look at them and wonder but I look at them and know the story behind them and know that there was a story that was once part of me that made them special.
Icys1483
The lightning scar on his forehead was a mark of his mother’s undying love for him and the power that that love continues to have throughout his entire life. We’ll never forget that lightning bolt scar, Harry, or our love for you. It’s real for us. The Weapon we have is love.
She used to be a dreamer, so beautiful and strong, until he came around. Scarred her badly he did. The pain she felt was unimaginable, I’m sure. They say her smile was magic I hear. And her laughter rolled like a warm breeze sliding over the river.
He hurt her badly, that boy. They say her eyes don’t shine no more, they say if you look right in her eyes, you see the pain, the scar through her heart. She used to be a dreamer, who fell so in love, only to be hurt. Forced to walk away from her greatest desire, because she could not take the pain anymore.
It kills me, her sorrow. Where have all her dreams gone?
Katie
The hidden message in his eyes when he can’t look away and I can’t hold his gaze. The mark of his strength, the strength he still cannot see. The flaw in the perfection: the man I love more than anyone else.
Kim Jong Il is dead.
The scars he left will take decades to heal.
Let us hope that someday the North Korean people will know the heartfelt joys of freedom, unrepressed expression, and McDonald’s Happy Meals.
What’s left when your heart breaks. It becomes the ripple in your flesh that tells the world who you are, who you were, who you could be. It reminds you from whence you came and where you’re headed. It shows you why you’re beautiful.
Cassia
I hide these scar. These inside scars. Left on my cheeks. Left on my arms. Left on my heart. Left on my leg. Left on my soul. Left on my scar. Left on you. Scars everywhere. Scars as in you have scarred me. Scars as in will never go away. Scars as in it will stick with me forever. Scars as in memory. Scars as in leave me alone. Scars as in you can’t. Scars as in you won’t. Scars no longer feels like a word. Life no longer feels like a world. You no longer feel like a scar, oh wait. Yes you do. Scars here, scars there. Scared scars. Scarred scars. Me oh my, all these scars. Scars haunt. You haunt. I want to haunt. I can’t stop you. You overpower me every time. Leaving more scars. My insides cold with angry. My insides hot with passionless pain. My insides touched and scared, or scarred? It has been much more than a minute now, but point is these scars will last forever, they will forever live on in me. Because of you. Touch me one more time, feel this scared skin. I’ll kick your ass. I’m different now. Or maybe not. Maybe i’m still weak. Not strong enough to take you. Not strong enough to push you off. Oh I cannot stop now. You have me going. Or are you going. Going for me. I don’t want this any less than you do, until you force it. Love is a relaxed thing. Not something meant for one person and not the other. I must stop this now, but my fingers refuse. I cannot stop typing, I cannot stop you, so what can I stop? Nothing? Can I not control anything? Can I even control myself? Not for these feelings. And not from these scars.
Scared are we. The children who grew up in the Dazed and Confused Zeppelin anthem. Having this freedom dangled in front of us, but chained in a room of speakers.
There are marks on our bodies with unknown stories, where something happened and we didn’t even notice. But the scars that hurt the worst are those with marks left unseen. The ones that won’t fade until faced. The ones that won’t be faced until they are seen.
scar..like the lion king..he was bad..i used to cry every time i watched that movie…i should watch it again, Disney makes me smile…and cry…but usually smile. Means no worries right? People should keep reminding themselves of that…
megan
It’s not as if the scar were visible. It was hidden under my clothes. But if someone were to touch that scar, even softly, then suddeny a jolt of pain would run all over my body. Not hard to avoid when you’re alone, but if you’re with someone who really gets into your life and heart, then suddenly the pain is constant. It sometimes even gets worse.
Emma
Scar . A really bad deep hurting feeling left / image to be remembered of bad or unhappy things . It can never be erased or be as perfect as it was , once .
Yujia :D
The blood slowly drips down her body; years and years of torture consume her. They scar her mind and corrupt her thoughts. The room starts to fade away as she falls to the floor.
The scar stretched across her face, marring what had once been the perfect image of her mother. There was no way to hide it, and even less of a way to keep others from seeing the beauty she had been once. But the young woman smiled ruthlessly. It didn’t matter what they thought. Any who despised her would not matter, once they were dead on the end of her sword.
It was a little bit dark, heavy breathing from both sides. Snuggled into his chest I caressed him, running my hands up and down his arm and my soft fingers met with ridges, and I caressed those too. His breathing slowed, his lips found my ear, he held me closer and said “Most people avoid them.” And I turned my head and met his lips with mine and whispered into them, “I like them. They’re a part of you, and you’re beautiful.” And he smiled and held me closer, it becoming too hot under the blankets but neither of us wanting to let go.
He had a scar behind his right ear, which was chipped by a knife in the same fight. He wore an earring, a silver hoop and a celtic earcuff on that side, to emphasize his battle wounds. One tough motherfucker – always wore his hair slicked back like a greaser. Always smiling. But when the cops asked her if he had any defining marks, or tattoos, or scars, she blanked, and found herself dry in the mouth as she tried to reduce this imposing structure of a man down to his imperfections.
Scar’s are proof that you’ve done something with your life, proof that you have lived and will continue living long after death claims you. Scars are beautiful masterpieces that remind you of the good times and the bad, because you shouldn’t forget. Never forget the past. Live in the present, remember the past, and anticipate the future. Scars are a small part of a beautiful life that is only just the beginning, no matter how old you are. Get scarred, be scarred, stay scarred. At least it means that you’ve accomplished something.
I gently touched the scar with my finger, she flinched backwards. The wary look in her eyes told me it hadn’t been an accident. He was used to people being scared of him, but for some reason her reaction bothered him, made him want to show her that he wasn’t the horrible monster of his reputation.
The raised red welt on my thigh didn’t appear by accident. It was deliberately put there. Karma, some may say. It’s the only thing that has ever stayed constant for me. It’s like a second shadow, you might say. Everybody has a story, mine’s just visible.
Sår, vondt, uhyggelig.. trist. Skadet. Ulykker og sommer. Ting fra fortiden. Fremtiden som kommer. Uttrykk. Noe som ikke leger.
i couldn’t believe how many scars i had on my arms when i came round in the hospital. apparently i had lost pints and pints of blood and was lucky that gloria had found me when she did. i think that now might be the time to face up to the fact that my drinking has got out of hand, just like ken after all.
Under that scar is a lifetime of broken dreams and a story waiting to be told. He was a good man, hardworking and loyal.
An emotional or a physical scar; it doesn’t matter – but emotional scars are the hardest to heal… Physical scars can fade over time, can become lighter and less of a burden, but emotional scars stay with you. Possibly forever. With help, though, these scars can become lighter too – and that’s where your loved ones come in, the people who truly care about you.
Funny this should come up cause I have a scar on my arm from the time I dug my nail into it when I was afraid I would fall out of the very small hotel bed and I wish I could sue the hotel but instead I’ll use Vitamin E all to try to make the scar fade because I don’t want it to show when it’s warm and I wear sleeveless dresses.
I looked at the raised flesh,
wounded so long ago.
I felt my eyebrows pull together as it
stung, still.
How?
How can that be?
Even after everything, he was still with me.
And he always would be.
Forever.
Scar isn’t evil, he was just being mean. That was the quote of the three-year old character in a novel I read this year. Three-year olds don’t think that way, but the quote is interesting.
She traced the deep scar across his cheek, the skin felt so different there that she almost pulled away. She tentatively rested the palm of her hand, covering the scar, protecting him. Leaning, her lips met his. Rousing him from sleep, his tongue found hers and kissed her deeply.
The scar on her face was very gross. I was afraid to ask what happened to cause such a creepy feature that is now part of her face. But I could not help but stare. That was embarrassing until she smiled. Then I did not even notice it any more!
A physical manifestation of a moment, or moments. Your body’s way of painting a reminder across your canvas of life. Scars can remind you of happy moments yet still we feel compelled to cover them up or to erase them. They fade in time. Everything fades in time.
we each have a deep scar that cannot be erased. but without it who would bother training themselves to write by signing up for one word. without scars no literature and art exists. it’s out job to cherish a scar.
wound, lingers, black mark, permanent, superficial yet deep impact.
All of us have been wounded in one way or another. These wounds leave a scar which may last forever. Scars, then, are a symbol of experience…a sign that we have fallen down so many time and yet stood up after the fall.
What an easy word to write about.
I’ve too many razor blade scars to count.
I won’t even bother.
I won’t even bother to make this poetic in any way.
I won’t even bother to pretend to care.
I won’t.
scar is what people do to others
And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could’ve gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar when everyone wants a little more?
And so that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?
Scar – Missy Higgins.
Look at it.
Look at it you god damned idiot.
You see that?
That’s you.
This is what you did.
Are you proud?
Are you proud of the wound you gave me?
Are you proud of the scar it turned into?
Because I’m ashamed of it.
And you?
You could care less.
I think I first saw it in a picture, an unintelligible line running down the midde. It was almost imperceptible, but upon closer inspection, there was no mistaking its existence.
I must’ve looked at the picture a thousand times, and each time, the line seemed to grow and proliferate.
It was the scar, not of a physical wound, but one that ran deep in her heart.
I think he is still single. It was on the 7th year of our relationship that he popped the question. “Would you marry me?” After all these years of companionship, a voice inside me said NO. My heart was ache. Aching for a reason to say no.
i have a scar on my heart,
from some inner turmoil my mind doesn’t even know about.
thank god you brought the stictches.
I have a scar on my left ring finger from when I was hurriedly getting decorations ready for my best friend’s wedding. I’ve just now realized how ironic that is.
I love the scars that are on my body they make me who I am and I wouldn’t change them for the life of me. Other people may look at them and wonder but I look at them and know the story behind them and know that there was a story that was once part of me that made them special.
The lightning scar on his forehead was a mark of his mother’s undying love for him and the power that that love continues to have throughout his entire life. We’ll never forget that lightning bolt scar, Harry, or our love for you. It’s real for us. The Weapon we have is love.
She used to be a dreamer, so beautiful and strong, until he came around. Scarred her badly he did. The pain she felt was unimaginable, I’m sure. They say her smile was magic I hear. And her laughter rolled like a warm breeze sliding over the river.
He hurt her badly, that boy. They say her eyes don’t shine no more, they say if you look right in her eyes, you see the pain, the scar through her heart. She used to be a dreamer, who fell so in love, only to be hurt. Forced to walk away from her greatest desire, because she could not take the pain anymore.
It kills me, her sorrow. Where have all her dreams gone?
The hidden message in his eyes when he can’t look away and I can’t hold his gaze. The mark of his strength, the strength he still cannot see. The flaw in the perfection: the man I love more than anyone else.
Kim Jong Il is dead.
The scars he left will take decades to heal.
Let us hope that someday the North Korean people will know the heartfelt joys of freedom, unrepressed expression, and McDonald’s Happy Meals.
What’s left when your heart breaks. It becomes the ripple in your flesh that tells the world who you are, who you were, who you could be. It reminds you from whence you came and where you’re headed. It shows you why you’re beautiful.
I hide these scar. These inside scars. Left on my cheeks. Left on my arms. Left on my heart. Left on my leg. Left on my soul. Left on my scar. Left on you. Scars everywhere. Scars as in you have scarred me. Scars as in will never go away. Scars as in it will stick with me forever. Scars as in memory. Scars as in leave me alone. Scars as in you can’t. Scars as in you won’t. Scars no longer feels like a word. Life no longer feels like a world. You no longer feel like a scar, oh wait. Yes you do. Scars here, scars there. Scared scars. Scarred scars. Me oh my, all these scars. Scars haunt. You haunt. I want to haunt. I can’t stop you. You overpower me every time. Leaving more scars. My insides cold with angry. My insides hot with passionless pain. My insides touched and scared, or scarred? It has been much more than a minute now, but point is these scars will last forever, they will forever live on in me. Because of you. Touch me one more time, feel this scared skin. I’ll kick your ass. I’m different now. Or maybe not. Maybe i’m still weak. Not strong enough to take you. Not strong enough to push you off. Oh I cannot stop now. You have me going. Or are you going. Going for me. I don’t want this any less than you do, until you force it. Love is a relaxed thing. Not something meant for one person and not the other. I must stop this now, but my fingers refuse. I cannot stop typing, I cannot stop you, so what can I stop? Nothing? Can I not control anything? Can I even control myself? Not for these feelings. And not from these scars.
Scared are we. The children who grew up in the Dazed and Confused Zeppelin anthem. Having this freedom dangled in front of us, but chained in a room of speakers.
There are marks on our bodies with unknown stories, where something happened and we didn’t even notice. But the scars that hurt the worst are those with marks left unseen. The ones that won’t fade until faced. The ones that won’t be faced until they are seen.
scar..like the lion king..he was bad..i used to cry every time i watched that movie…i should watch it again, Disney makes me smile…and cry…but usually smile. Means no worries right? People should keep reminding themselves of that…
It’s not as if the scar were visible. It was hidden under my clothes. But if someone were to touch that scar, even softly, then suddeny a jolt of pain would run all over my body. Not hard to avoid when you’re alone, but if you’re with someone who really gets into your life and heart, then suddenly the pain is constant. It sometimes even gets worse.
Scar . A really bad deep hurting feeling left / image to be remembered of bad or unhappy things . It can never be erased or be as perfect as it was , once .
The blood slowly drips down her body; years and years of torture consume her. They scar her mind and corrupt her thoughts. The room starts to fade away as she falls to the floor.
The scar stretched across her face, marring what had once been the perfect image of her mother. There was no way to hide it, and even less of a way to keep others from seeing the beauty she had been once. But the young woman smiled ruthlessly. It didn’t matter what they thought. Any who despised her would not matter, once they were dead on the end of her sword.
It was a little bit dark, heavy breathing from both sides. Snuggled into his chest I caressed him, running my hands up and down his arm and my soft fingers met with ridges, and I caressed those too. His breathing slowed, his lips found my ear, he held me closer and said “Most people avoid them.” And I turned my head and met his lips with mine and whispered into them, “I like them. They’re a part of you, and you’re beautiful.” And he smiled and held me closer, it becoming too hot under the blankets but neither of us wanting to let go.
He had a scar behind his right ear, which was chipped by a knife in the same fight. He wore an earring, a silver hoop and a celtic earcuff on that side, to emphasize his battle wounds. One tough motherfucker – always wore his hair slicked back like a greaser. Always smiling. But when the cops asked her if he had any defining marks, or tattoos, or scars, she blanked, and found herself dry in the mouth as she tried to reduce this imposing structure of a man down to his imperfections.
Scar’s are proof that you’ve done something with your life, proof that you have lived and will continue living long after death claims you. Scars are beautiful masterpieces that remind you of the good times and the bad, because you shouldn’t forget. Never forget the past. Live in the present, remember the past, and anticipate the future. Scars are a small part of a beautiful life that is only just the beginning, no matter how old you are. Get scarred, be scarred, stay scarred. At least it means that you’ve accomplished something.
I gently touched the scar with my finger, she flinched backwards. The wary look in her eyes told me it hadn’t been an accident. He was used to people being scared of him, but for some reason her reaction bothered him, made him want to show her that he wasn’t the horrible monster of his reputation.
The raised red welt on my thigh didn’t appear by accident. It was deliberately put there. Karma, some may say. It’s the only thing that has ever stayed constant for me. It’s like a second shadow, you might say. Everybody has a story, mine’s just visible.