Scar-Personal Narrative

First, the author uses descriptive imagery to form a strong image in the reader’s head. The text states, “The scars were thick ridges, alternating bright pink and white, in stripes up from her neck.”(pg.16) The author describes a girl she met in the mental hospital. By the vivid words

Have you ever went through a heartbreak? Do you remember detail by detail a certain event. Do you get sad or happy when that memory comes to mind? Daniel Halpern in his poem “Scars” uses symbolism to talk about these subjects because it tends to move on a deeper level and bring a subconscious connection to the poem, he uses foreshadowing to let the reader’s know something important is coming up, lastly the author uses flashback to present past information relevant to present situations. Using all the literary elements Daniel Halpern creates a relatable poem discussing scars and how they remind you of your stories even when your heart can’t. Your scars are part of who you are as much as your heartbreak. The heart doesn’t remind you of what you need to remember, a scar can come from a good and bad experience. In the poem “Scars” by Daniel Halpern, he uses symbolism, foreshadowing, and flashbacks creating a strong, powerful theme, you will always remember your past experiences.

William, Rachel’s three year old son is crying standing over her as she is slowly regaining consciousness. Her boyfriend, Daniel, was gone; their bedroom door was left cracked open and Rachel was on the couch in their room. Pained around her neck from where he choked her, she tries to wrap her head around how she got to this point. Why does Daniel hate her? What did she do this time? Can she, should she, just leave with William? Rachel realizes she has to get out of the house before Daniel gets back. When she arrives at her mother’s house, her mom is alarmed. Rachel has bruises around her neck and marks around her hairline. Rachel’s mother tells her “You come here every week and you go back to that monster every week. I see these bruises but you must not feel they are a problem since you keep going back to him.” Rachel’s mom walks out of the room frustrated.

I stood petrified. What had happened to me? My father had just been struck, in front of me, and I had not even blinked. I had watched and kept silent. Only yesterday, I would have dug my nails into this criminal's flesh. Had I changed that much? So fast? Remorse began to gnaw at me. All I could think was: I shall never forgive them for this.

"I was terribly hurt in this town and vastly loved," she told Moyers in Creativity. She later added, "When I reach for the pen to write, I have to scrape it across those scars to sharpen that point."”. (Ardrey)

Learning to fight for your life was easier than this. Though the life was difficult in itself nothing came close to the difficulty of watching someone you love walk away, it seemed to only get harder even if it was your fault in the end. Pushing people away was a specialty of his and when it actually worked it was earth shattering. The silence pointed out the flaws that he’d managed to go without noticing with her by his side but now they screamed at him yet again. He was back to the self-destructive, sacrificial, self-loathing creature he always was. Though he always knew his family was broken it wasn’t even close to this damaged. He wasn’t the only one that felt the loss, his brother had lost someone as well. It was a feeling in the air

The large cut on the right side of my forehead had begun to bleed again; my own blood threatening to choke me. “Calm down its ok. You're going through a rough phase that's all. Try to get some rest,” was all the comfort dad could manage before choking up into tears. He turned away as streaks of auburn curls lightly brushed against me, the owner tending to my wound. Rest, he says; not so easy when every time your eyes droop, the dreams begin. They have been getting worse, the closer I become in finding a way to bring her

Even though Mr. Malter knew Reuven would want to know about Danny. He kept this unspoken promise to Danny.

There are only two people in this school who I can enjoy hanging around in school, not including Hope or Felix of course. Those two people were Cendric and Silica. They where twins who had moved to this area just a few years ago. They both shared hobbies with me, including reading, VRMMO's, anime, and above all some peace and quiet. Nothing beats some peace and quiet every once in a while.

It has been at least an hour and a half since the attack. She does not remember anything that happened. She slowly get up and reaches for the doorknob. A sudden shot of pain went up her arm. Blood then started dripping from her hand. She had been cut. A knife stabbed her in her hand. “Ow.”, She then blacks out.

Covered in wallpaper, the room is plagued by yellow, but not just any yellow, “a smouldering unclean yellow, strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight” (Mays 528). The picture painted by the narrator is a dull, mustard yellow that not only looks bad, but also is described as foul-smelling (Mays 534). Knowing the shade of yellow is crucial to analysis because every color and every shade of color has an impact in our emotions. Yellow is a color known for making the brain active in a number of different ways, depending on the shade, for example bright yellow makes promotes happiness and productivity. In contrast, dull yellow can promote depression and, “… can induce states of anxiety because it is considered to be such a rapid moving color,” which is interesting since it amplifies the narrator’s anxiety and depression, but opposes her lack of energy (Dena 2016). Also to point out is the relation of the narrator’s inner conflict with the cracks on the wallpaper: “It is obvious that the wallpaper’s ‘outrageous angles’ and ‘unheard of contradictions’ reflect [the narrator’s] own inner turbulence” (Mcdona 2016). The same cracks in the wall that end up driving the narrator mad also resembles the struggle going on in her mind, which was also aided by the color of the wall the cracks found themselves on.

“Fine,” she looked up as a man with a scar running down his cheek smiled sinisterly. She didn’t trust him, she moved to try to get out of his reach but he pulled his arm out. Her eyes widened in horror as his fist came forward, she had stopped crying, watching the fist as if it was coming at her slowly. When it hit her face she barely registered it, it didn’t hurt, only stung and sent a shock through her body. Another fist came, then another. Her vision was going blurry, she heard them say something but she couldn’t make out what it was as her body fell limp against the seat and her eyes shut, unable to handle the pain in her

Over the span of four months, each week I would regularly meet with a former colleague of mine by the name of Terrion Austin. Terrion recently moved from Nebraska to Tennessee, due to his job opening that presented itself that would allow for him to be closer to both him and his wife’s family. Terrion reached out to me over the summer, due to the fact that he was extremely unsure in his faith. He felt that whenever he read the bible he was never felt satisfied once done reading. This frustrated him tremendously. In addition to his frustration, Terrion was often confronted by members from his job that would frequently ask him questions that he did not feel he could answer. Moreover, his inability to answer did not come from a lack of knowing the bible; however, it was quite the opposite. Terrion, like most young Christian, grew up

in a long black coat, stood a man – his eyes pierced her skin as he

Words cannot be used to describe how sad of a color beige is. Beige is the color of your malicious teacher’s wrinkled khaki pants, or the color of spoiled goods you could find at the dump. Beige was also the color of my brand new bedroom walls. The disgusting brown shade permeated my thoughts entirely, and I saw myself in it. My emotions had been painted a sad shade of beige by my parents recent divorce. I missed my purple walls that, when the right lighting from the sun hit them, epitomized crocus flowers dancing in a gentle breeze. The exciting, beautiful decorations that had once been on display for all to see were now hidden within the confines of beige boxes. I was encapsulated in a beige dungeon. In an attempt to distract myself from