In the quiet of the night they speak,
Whispers of battles fought, unseen,
Echoes of a heart that did not break,
Marks of courage where pain has been.

Lines etched deep beneath the skin,
Tales of storms weathered and passed,
Wounds that taught the soul to win,
Reminders of strength that will last.

In the light of day they fade,
Yet still, their stories breathe,
Of shadows faced and fears allayed,
Of victories woven in silent wreaths.

Let them be not hidden nor erased,
For in their presence, truth resides,
A testament to a life embraced,
Scars, the markings of life’s strides.