judging me
for the scars you can see
but the nastiest mark of them all
is not some physical flaw
you could laugh at with your friends
or pinch at on my skin
living breathing being shame
never taught to be another way
guilty for existing that's my bad
they'll make sure i know of that
little whispers poke
but they're just a thread in the rope
i don't even feel anymore i think
i survived but did i really