My hair is rough and brittle
My lips are plain and thin.
My stomach bulges out too much
And I have a double chin.

My hips; too wide to ever by loved
I'm much too short to kiss
I wear a size eight shoe
And I have a tiny lisp.

My teeth are crooked,
My face is plump
My eyes no longer gleam
My chest I have nothing to flaunt
And I have bubbly looking knees.

The scars that mark my flesh were one a source of pride.
They represented the battles I've fought and the ones that I've survived.
That is until they were intentionally done,
To cause hurt and pain.
To let the blood seep from my skin, it could make me sane.

-Briannah