Upon my life I bear one precious scar: <br />Each night I kiss it, till anew it bleeds, <br />And tell each drop of blood, as hallowed beads <br />Are told by those dear few who faithful are. <br />To me it seems to beautify, not mar, <br />My inner self, for from that deep wound leads <br />A path to gained respect, my secret needs <br />Quenched by the bleeding of that fountain are. <br /> <br />The fiery contest when that wound was won, <br />Still burns within my brain, and robs of life, <br />And terror, every lesser hurt that's done <br />To heart or spirit; let all harm run rife. <br />I shall not fear again to look upon <br />The gleaming edges of Fate's sharpest knife.<br /><br />Radclyffe Hall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-scar-12/
