A boy told me
That the skin on my back
Is beautiful
That it makes me unique
I am not sure
If his words
Were supposed to make me feel pretty
But they made me think
Made me wonder
How a near stranger
Could admire my skin
Almost as much as I despise it
My skin
Is a combination
Of freckles
Of scars
And of spots
These marks
These sun-stained,
Disease-ridden patches
Are not beautiful
This lack of pigmentation,
Scattered formation of color
Looks more like a puzzle
Than it does human
And often times
I feel more puzzle
Than I do human
See I know what it's like
To feel your skin changing color
To feel like your body has betrayed you
The cells that are supposed to protect
Have instead chosen to neglect you
Denying their purpose
Into abandonment
I have spent hours in the mirror
Turning my reflection into stranger
Staring at these flaws
Picking apart every piece of my complexion
Until all that remains
Is insecurity
But the problem with self-hate
Is that it never ends in satisfaction
Only in disappointment
And destroying yourself
Is not an art form
There are times
When I forget
That my body is home before anything else
That it is mine
Before anyone else’s
And although it is shelter
It often feels more
Like the aftermath of a storm
A battlefield left behind
The remnants from wars fought
And wars lost
Some say
I should take pride
In the incongruity
In the mess
In this map I call my body
I have been told
To embrace the blemishes
That they merely proof
Of survival
Of being alive
Of breathing
And it is easy to say
Something is not that bad
When it isn’t you
Who it is unfolding
But this disease
Will not ruin me
It can take parts of my body
To twist into ugly
Turn my immune system against me
And leave scars as evidence
But I refuse to
Let this disease
Make me into anything but
Strength
I have spent years
Trying to find comfort in this skin I am in
Wondering
How unlucky I got
To be this mismatched
Forgetting that I am this lucky
To be this mismatched
And that originality
Is as desirable
As my skin is unclear
This skin that I bare
Does not define me
These tattoos that I have gotten
To cover up unwanted memory
Do not define me
These scales that I wear
Not by choice
But by default
Do not define me
Only I
Define me.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
A boy told me
That the skin on my back
Is beautiful
That it makes me unique
I am not sure
If his words
Were supposed to make me feel pretty
But they made me think
Made me wonder
How a near stranger
Could admire my skin
Almost as much as I despise it
My skin
Is a combination
Of freckles
Of scars
And of spots
These marks
These sun-stained,
Disease-ridden patches
Are not beautiful
This lack of pigmentation,
Scattered formation of color
Looks more like a puzzle
Than it does human
And often times
I feel more puzzle
Than I do human
See I know what it's like
To feel your skin changing color
To feel like your body has betrayed you
The cells that are supposed to protect
Have instead chosen to neglect you
Denying their purpose
Into abandonment
I have spent hours in the mirror
Turning my reflection into stranger
Staring at these flaws
Picking apart every piece of my complexion
Until all that remains
Is insecurity
But the problem with self-hate
Is that it never ends in satisfaction
Only in disappointment
And destroying yourself
Is not an art form
There are times
When I forget
That my body is home before anything else
That it is mine
Before anyone else’s
And although it is shelter
It often feels more
Like the aftermath of a storm
A battlefield left behind
The remnants from wars fought
And wars lost
Some say
I should take pride
In the incongruity
In the mess
In this map I call my body
I have been told
To embrace the blemishes
That they merely proof
Of survival
Of being alive
Of breathing
And it is easy to say
Something is not that bad
When it isn’t you
Who it is unfolding
But this disease
Will not ruin me
It can take parts of my body
To twist into ugly
Turn my immune system against me
And leave scars as evidence
But I refuse to
Let this disease
Make me into anything but
Strength
I have spent years
Trying to find comfort in this skin I am in
Wondering
How unlucky I got
To be this mismatched
Forgetting that I am this lucky
To be this mismatched
And that originality
Is as desirable
As my skin is unclear
This skin that I bare
Does not define me
These tattoos that I have gotten
To cover up unwanted memory
Do not define me
These scales that I wear
Not by choice
But by default
Do not define me
Only I
Define me.
Request permission to use this poem