poetry

beautiful

I am not the pimples on my face

softness built up ’round my thighs and waist

I am not my un-groomed, un-plucked brows

no foundation, no concealing powder

I am not my fashion sense-less clothes

clashing colors, blue jeans way too old

I am not my hours spent with friends

evenings spent drunk-dancing, without end

I am not my anger or my hate

I am not walking into class late

I am not my ratty, torn-up sneakers

I am not my car’s old blown-out speakers

What I am is what I need to be

Sad sometimes, but oftentimes at peace

Awkward, clumsy, that’s alright with me

Mirrors show me what I need to see

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