A Scar Is A Scar

~ Frank Solanki

Tweet, tweet

The blue bird sings

Her melody pounds my heart

Sweet, sweet

The echoes bring

The time that’s torn us apart

…

Grave, grave

The mistakes made

Have left behind a scar

Save, save

For the cut wings I

May have flown away too far

…

Nerves of steel

Have made me feel

For my fickle heart

The lies are real

Up until

Truth becomes an art

Published by Frank Solanki

Making the world a better place one poem at a time.

24 thoughts on “A Scar Is A Scar”

  3. Hello! To start, I must tell you that I try to read your poetry whenever you post. I find it absolutely beautiful and also very well written. Anyhow, I am thinking of self-publishing an ebook collection of my poems. I am currently in high school with a small poetry blog (thepoeticalchemist.wordpress.com) that I started about a year ago. With nearly 100 total poems (I haven’t posted all of my poems to my blog) I was wondering if you would be willing to assist me in creating it by offering advice on my poetry or tips for my ebook, which would be highly appreciated. Thank you!

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  6. nice piece. but to erase the scar it’s not truth that needs to “become an art”, he needs to stop hearing the tweets (by hearing new and sweeter tweets) or stop the bird from hanging around.

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    1. i say this because once truth and trust are compromised it’s never the same thing with that same person. what normally develops is pretense at truth and trust. learn your lesson. assess your mistakes. start anew knowing you need to now be truthful to be trustful.

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      2. True what you are saying, but the truth and trust sometimes are compromised by the lies of others. And so, these little birds need some help to get back together at their own true love that was never compromised but only lied at to split them apart. Sorry, I am an in-correctable romantic soul that still believes in true love 🙂

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        2. i agree with you. the worst situation for any two lovers is having to deal with the lies of others. those are hardly ever resolved because they never emanated from the interactions of the lovers themselves. it’s like trying to detonate a bomb without manuals.

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  10. the bluebirds songs are silent now and you no longer hear it s sounds , because
    the truth had become a art , as it touched your fickled heart
    yet your heart still weeps as the scars cut deep
    but you are a survivor with a will to survive and the pains will surely die.

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