awe_to_see_my_scars Norm My life's work, an unintended piece of art. Across my chest and stomach stretch throbbing reminders of my fiercest enemies. Riddling my flesh are the medals of a solider, long at war with himself. And each scar, each medal... each reminder's story is much deeper now than the pain I felt by the wound inflicted in my past, than the memories caused by it. If there is any true meaning in my scars it is only seen in the awe in the face of young women who, when off comes my shirt, see the claws of a great beast dragged across my chest. Or in the scars on my palms and knuckles that only I can see, those faded scars I would rather forget but know I never shall. 041103 what's it to you? who go blather from