Battle Scars

(A mother’s day poem.)

A soldier earns his wounds and scars at war

And a warrior with battles, and fighting from afar

But yours, oh dear, has been greatly unique

Not a single conflict nor bloodshed can ever compare to it

‘Tis not of battles, ’tis not of wars

But because of your love, shining like the brightest star


Those permanent lines etched on your body like maps

Clearly it has not been easy for you, not in a snap

But those seemingly-ugly remnants shows how much you cared without distraught

Because if you are without those scars, then we are also naught

Without all those lines and all those pains, what would we be then?

An empty wish, a random thought brushed away, a dream never to happen


The seas will rise and the blazing sun will set

With your love that even the brightest Seraphs covet

The plants shall grow tall and the old trees wither

And you’ll always remain our ever-faithful teacher

The years will pass and the endless days shall go

But those battle scars that show your sacrifices shall always shine proudly on your torso.

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