“a poem about the red hot chili pepers song scar tissue as an Elizabethan Sonnet”

Upon the strings, a plaintive hymn takes flight,  
As “Scar Tissue” unwinds within the air;  
Kiedis’ voice—salt-stung by time and night—  
Confesses wounds that listeners all share.  
A lonesome slide guitar, Frusciante’s weep,  
Laments and lifts the soul with burnished grace;  
Each verse emerges, memories that sleep  
Like sun-baked tracks along a desert’s face.  
“Scar tissue that I wish you saw,” he cries,  
The echo curling deep beneath the skin,  
Yet as the pain does fade, a phoenix flies—  
Rebirth begins where heartbreak had been in.  
Though wounds may mar, their beauty is not small:  
From scar-etched songs, a healing for us all.

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