Counting stars and counting scars

Counting stars and counting scars, I lose myself in their number
A celestial promise glistening overhead,
A reflection of the pain I carried on my skin.

Each scar tells a story of nights I nearly surrendered,
Whispers of fear, fury, and love that split me open.
My fingers ghost over each ridge,
Skin raised like a map of battles I never meant to fight.

Above, the stars burn, unblinking, like ancient wounds across the sky.
Their light seeps into the hollows of my chest,
Filling the spaces where silence once lived.
I stand there, breath caught,
Beneath an endless sky that both humbles and heals.

In the stillness where ache meets hope, I listen.
Every scar is proof of the fire I walked through,
Each flame forging something unbreakable.
Alive. Bruised. Reaching for something more.
So I keep counting, star by star, scar by scar,
Trusting that even in the deepest night, I can still find light.