The scratches in his body aren't healed,
And even if they improve, they're not meant to be concealed,
Though it hurts, it's part of the journey — part of the road he took,
He will accumulate much more, and will be there to remind him every time he look.
As bumps continue to multiply,
It became harder for him to open his wings and fly,
For along the road is a mass number of archers,
Ready to shoot whenever he move, making him crippled to suffer.
The porcelain skin have now wounds and gashes,
The smooth hair now have dirt, sometimes giving him backlashes,
And the once bright brown eyes that held determination and perseverance,
Are now hooded caused by the people that threw abhorrence.
Just like for everybody, the sun's too hot for the fellow,
Darkening his skin from being white not long ago,
Tainting his mind darker than what it used to,
Spoiling his heart to show what is true.
But as he goes on and neared his end,
He wondered what he had become,
As his thoughts dance with the melody of his friend,
He stays still, enjoying the guitar from being strum.
-Love, Luminekoygk.
Life is a never ending race; some took their journey in the road, and some in the seas.
But not all sails inside a yacht; some tries to keep floating, holding onto a shard of wood while also keeping a hold of their loved ones. And some, drowning while crying out for help to people in their yachts.
For the people who rides their journey under the hot, blazing sun and on the hard, rough road; it is also never easy as some rides in flashy cars while some, like our OP, takes his journey with his bare feet.
Yet, it doesn't mean we all don't have scars from our past. No matter which way we choose to take our journey, we make choices that became a sole reminder of our mistakes... for a lifetime.
A/N: This would be the last piece for the June-Metaphor Month, though it only reached 7 poems at max.
For July, it would be poems about the Seven Deadly Sins. I hope you'll still be there to read and vote!