Observation
Hello man with the scarred leg, I'm a man with a scar on my neck
It's my most visible scar, an echo of a cellular revolution.
A vestige of a cycle interrupted, a gross error preluding proliferation bent on conquering the whole redeemable only by a red death cocktail.
Since we've lived though, I'll ask, do your scars shape your soul?
Ripping and reforming pieces of it, a visual mark of irreparable progress,
leaving me to wonder:
are we better off?
are we worthy?
are we alive?
Upon reflection, yes.