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Scar
Eyebrows heavy, they seemed a bit sad
Until I had spotted my waiting dad
Two bowls of chicken in hand
I saw him next to a stand
With an opportunity to scare
I’d get him good I swear
And so I ran so far, so fast along the floor
Almost there, almost near, but my foot I fear
Twisting I fell, as if under a spell
Face first I noticed that my hands were okay
It was my face that looked like a rose bouquet
A mark was stung on my forehead
But I loved it to this day
It was like a badge, a medal for saving that food
My favorite and funniest scar I conclude
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