source unknown
It was at a M83 concert where we first met. I saw your arms and you saw mine for what they were because we knew that we were the same. For the first time, it wasn't the jarring words that were accusing or degrading but ones that expressed genuine interest as you smiled at raised your hands, showing me that just as well, you were in pain too. I looked around us and we all looked the same. Our arms had scars, lines of youth, where blood had run down. Once upon a time we hurt and then we healed. Improperly though.
People look at me sometimes, on the street at my arms that scream out for attention because that's all I wanted. And now I found you in a crowd of everyone that was alike, with scars, with baggage and so very much alike. We all wore wristbands, wore band tees and Converse shoes, but somehow I got your attention anyway. I showed you my scars and you laughed, showing me yours.
