On realness

A poem about being real, accepting scars and flaws, and being enough

In the stillness, we meet ourselves,
not the masks we’ve worn but the soul beneath.
Silent stories speak of strength,
gently showing the weight of our youth.
The layers peel back, piece by piece,
scars serve as shields, still soft underneath.

We are not the sum of what we show,
but the weight of wounds and whispers lived through.
Each failure, each fight, leaves its mark,
while our hearts still search for something true.
In the quiet corners, truth doesn’t always rhyme,
and we realize we’ve always been enough, too.

To be real is to stand, steady yet scarred,
to let the world witness every flaw.
There’s beauty in the broken bits we bury,
where shattered shards reveal who we are.
In those cracks, courage quietly calls,
and love rises, unafraid of scars, to soar.

Author's Note

Any advice or tips greatly appreciated

Reviews

[Dave W.]

Being real is something a lot of people want others to be, but are to scared to be themselves. I really liked this.

[carl]

no advice, beautifully worded. Made me think of all the broken shell pieces you see on the beach, often some of the prettiest more so than those that are whole. Your words are very encouraging to live and love to be real - something not always obvious or that we can identify until after we have passed beyond it. - enjoyed the read very provoking courage. -carl