Gearing up and getting ready for war,
Packing supplies and ammunition, heading out the door.
Having to travel miles to reach the destination,
Going through valleys and trenches, losing out on hydration.

This war synonymous life that we face,
Many of whom struggle to find their place.
Making it out of the battlefield is a constant thought,
Alive and safe without being shot.
But during this inevitable journey that may try to kill,
We’re bound to get cut, slashed, and brought to a standstill.

That moment will surely come when we rejoice,
Having made it to the other side because we made a choice.
Having made a decision to endure the pain,
Surely will have its benefits, making us gain.
What we’re left with is something like a memoir,
Something that nearly killed, giving us a scar.

What this should remind and make us reminisce,
Having nearly ‘kicked the bucket’ we yet weren’t dismiss(ed),
These inflicted battle wounds that turned into scars,
Should remind us of survival as we live this life of ours.
A sign that it is only once you die not live,
An everyday experience that these scars can give.

In the end, a slow road to recovery though it may be,
These moments will build character and prevent crushing by spree.
Scars are like badges for life’s moments that were persevered,
Pushing us back into action, giving us memories to be revered.

-Sheldon Dominic Fernandez
Editor: Elrica Wendel Menezes
@oraches