We lick our wounds with such distaste for ourselves, still not yet knowing what caused the formation of the scars. When we see the bruised cuts left behind from the work of other, we allow ourselves to believe we are responsible for the marks left on our souls. For we permit our minds and hearts to attach between the space between and grow fond of the idea that someone else would care enough to come close enough to bruise our skin in a way that would haunt us for a lifetime after. What we do not realize, though, is the reality of living every day with a reminder of someone else who left clean from worry. Our minds bash against the temple of thought and logic while our hearts scream out for passion and hatred for only what it can see inside our bodies. Logic can’t exist in the dark space that holds our souls so we tend to believe whatever we tell ourselves and never rely on the fact of the physical world outside the realm of our imaginations. Our eyes connect to our minds while touch connects to our souls. Does this mean that we are better off blind to not see what scars were left, but only to feel the pain that lingers. Or better to be numb to agony and understand that a wound needs care. For both combined would result in tragedy beyond what one could handle by themselves. But we are left to figure out the balance ourselves, nevertheless, and continue up a fight wearing what only the world could see as a personal battle, even though they inflicted every one of the wounds on our bodies and left us to believe it was our fault for starting a war.