Scars

I participated in my second writing workshop in Toronto today, and one of the writing prompts was taken from an excerpt about the appearance of scars. I had ten minutes on the timer, and this is what I wrote…

My Scars

Twisted, gnarled, hideous.
I hear their whispers.
They hiss and spit as they pass
my gruesome disfiguration.

I cringe as their words lash at me like whips,
I whimper as their words flay me like scalpels,
I cower in the corner consumed by darkness.

But I hear them, 
I feel them,...