This is a love poem to myself
My eyes resemble the waves that crash upon the shores of my pupils, the white foam jagged edges cut into whatever it is that I happen to be looking at
My eyes reflect the storm that little sailor boys are warned about because I will take their ship and I will break it in half
My My eyes are the layers of the blue atmosphere above that holds launching rockets which carry history up to the moon
My eyes are beautiful
This is a poem of what society tells me not to tell myself
My hands are those of a creator, one that creates beauty itself from scrap paper and dried up glue sticks
My hands write poems that leave my pen dry of ink but full of meaning
My hands hold the world in their palms and map out the answers to the questions I ask
My hands are beautiful
This is a poem written in the first person because I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m beautiful except for myself
My scars are the notebook paper lines on which novels of strength are written
My scars show myself , and anyone else worthy of seeing them, that I am a warrior
My scars prove to me that, no matter how many times I’m told otherwise, I can heal and get through each moment
My scars are beautiful
This is a love poem because the only validation I need is from myself
My face owns the smile that Leonardo Da Vinci searched for to paint onto the Mona Lisa
My face is the subject of the marble sculptures that I craft in my own mind
My face is the line of symmetry in between “perfect” and “awe-inspiring” that the photoshop editors try to balance
This is a poem that some will call “Arrogance” but I will title “Reminder For When I Forget”
This is a reminder of my eyes, my hands, my scars, my face
This is a reminder that I am beautiful