Letter to you man

Sadly, men don't bleed, they said.

The glass always appeared too flawless to reflect the truth,

My scars written boldly like letters on my skin but unseen by the sane....

No lens ever captured the infections,

The wounds held in check by IV lines,

The quiet negotiations between the pharmaceuticals and the pain.

Somehow, relief came in capsules, measured and controlled, while the truth remained hidden.

Yet the mirror speaks the unseen truth, insisting that I am more than my wounds.

Happy Father's Day.