Scars almost never truly heal. Wounds take time to seal. A man who has so much to deal with, Where fantasy sometimes feels real. Scars are marks that rarely fade, Reminders of the battles we made. They may be born from any rally, Where healing is hard but necessary. Wounds remind us that we bleed; Fear and anxiety are what they feed. Medicine, care, and treatment some plead, While others endure in silent need. Dealing with problems is never easy. Some give up and grow weary. Some try so hard their thoughts feel wired, The process drains them, their emotions tired. Fantasy is often what we dream, Scenarios sweet and smooth as cream. When life grows heavy, the mind may scream, Imagining things are not what they seem.