My favorite thing to do is to pick and scratch at my insecurities
Beauty is pain
It breaks your body
And shatters your insides
I keep discovering new things about myself I hate
Trying to erase the problems
But I’m not able to paint over the entire canvas
I leave little lines
Pencil marks
Bent corners
Scars
Breaking the layer of protective skin
through the armor
And under my smile
My one man army struggling to keep up with the war
Not being able to find any new soldiers that want to stay and protect the piece of forgotten land that I am
I’m so large yet I’m still not placed on the map