The Scars

To the world the wounds have healed
the scars faded, invisible.
Yet all it takes
are carelessly spoken words
or random, fleeting thoughts
for the hurt to surface.
The wounds bleed invisible drops
the anguish swirling like a black cloud,
surrounds the self.
The bright smile
the calm demeanour
belie the echo of bewildered helplessness
the heartache lurking beneath

You
swallow the tears
the lump in the throat
then
with practised ease
stare at life in the eye