A scar.
Prickling with shame.
Shame, and memories.
Memories to be forgotten and never to be revisited in a lifetime.
Glowing with hostility.
Nothing worse to bear, it seems.
And yet something of you, a part of your life is the scar.
And it would be devastating.
If that scar should leave, a part of your life, those part that is the scar.
Would be shattered.
Blown into to pieces.
Never to return again.
And if that scar can be only the most obvious trait of the one to bear it...
What would that person's life be like?
For nothing, for this human will ever live, could ever be simple.