i was always confident in my looks
never really enjoyed them but knew others did.
for when i do enjoy,
a sense of vanity fills
my stomach with disgust.
i would chisel at my perfections
make sure to wear those scars;
character of soul; tattoos of trauma.

after all, this is my face not my heart,
why try to reflect anything other then?
for those that can read one's heart
through their face, are of my highest regard.

but hey even after all that,
im still looking ****