Bandage
The bandage on my hand offers a little comfort to the hole torn in my skin. We all wear bandages of one kind or another. Keeping our wounds from festering and to quickly heal. But even so there are the scars. The scars that remind us of the scrapes and falls we all take.
Some are good at suppressing the damage. They walk around flawlessly, never showing any weakness. But then there are those of us that are the walking wounded. With wounds that never seem to heal. I see your scars, I embrace your truth. And no matter how many times you fall. I’ll always be there to brush you off and bandage those wounds again.
FD Thornton
The bandage on my hand offers a little comfort to the hole torn in my skin. We all wear bandages of one kind or another. Keeping our wounds from festering and to quickly heal. But even so there are the scars. The scars that remind us of the scrapes and falls we all take.
Some are good at suppressing the damage. They walk around flawlessly, never showing any weakness. But then there are those of us that are the walking wounded. With wounds that never seem to heal. I see your scars, I embrace your truth. And no matter how many times you fall. I’ll always be there to brush you off and bandage those wounds again.
FD Thornton
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