Scars Stories

9th of May – Season 3 Temper hated this part. But he knew that it was necessary as he stood up in front of the anonymous group of people and prepared to speak. “My name is Themba Kunene and I am angry…” The session had gone on how it usually did which left Temper bored more than anything. It was only when it was over and he walked out of the hall of the Civic Centre did the day get interesting. It was the woman sitting on...

She's always warm at night and she wasn't mad at me anymore so I was half-asleep next to her for hours, just happy to be in bed and warm again. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for everything but I can't ever find the words. The feeling's there and so is the sound but there's just a dark unfathomable gap between me and the words. But she eventually said it was okay. Her face had searched me then. Those beautiful and tranq...

Life has a funny way of knocking us all down, making it seem impossible to get back up. Luckily, the human spirit is stronger than disaster, able to withstand things we thought we weren’t capable of. For some of us, life marks its territory in our lives through physical scars. All with names. Dates. Places. Stories. A constant reminder of what’s happened to us through old, puckered skin. Scars aren’t pretty, no matter wha...

Don’t look at me. Please. They cover me, puckered and pink, Some fresher than others, Some old and fading. They burn when emotions overrun me, Letting me know they are still there Under my clothes. Don’t tell me it’s wrong, And you don’t have to tell me I’m ugly- I look in the mirror, I see it, I know, But it really isn’t wrong. It’s certainly not right But it has saved my life If I had held it all in And not let it trick...

I search for something but am blinded by the reflective haze of life’s superficialityTrying to unshackle myself of fear I had hoped to reach Nirvana with unconstrained honest spiritualitySeeking contentment yet it teases and slips beyond my grasp and eludes me infuriatinglyI want to accept the pastas a lesson, uproot the emotional weeds yet they cling vine like and seem like such an integral part of meThe intangible truth...