If your skin
Became flexible clay
Something you could mould,
Craft,
Into perfection-
Would you use the chance?

Would you, perhaps, smoothen it
Remove all the uneven bumps
The pores
The scars
That make it real?

Would you lighten it,
Or maybe tan it,
Making it darker and lighter
Making it disloyal
To your roots?

Would you stretch it,
Removing wrinkles
And lines
Formed by years of expression
Removing from you the human?

My skin is rough and calloused
It has so many atrocious imperfections
Scars, bumps, pores, discoloration

But one day, if I was given the chance
To make my skin into clay
I would refuse.

Because my skin is already clay
It was already
Smoothened
Coloured
Stretched
By my experiences.

It changes with me.

So don't hate your skin.
Embrace it.
Your skin is a representation
Of all you've been through.