I never signed up for this
To be that model,
walking down the isle
begging for people to stare,
to promise justice to things outside
my control.

I never asked for the prying eyes
Inquisitive of the depths of my skin
Watching carefully
Picking at my features
Studying my skin.
Judgmental eyes
Lingering a minute to long
Up and down and up.

Their gaze
It picks, picks, picks
Like rubbing a soft scab
Quietly.

I never asked for that.