They say these stretch marks are my tiger stripes,
signs of my strength.
But I have never wanted to be a carnivore.
I don't want to prey on those smaller than me,
the ones so fragile I think they may crack.
I want to be a sunflower.
Long, and tall, and slim,
tilting toward the sunlight,
not just unafraid
but yearning to be seen.
I have not felt the sun on my skin in so long
that I have forgotten how it feels to burn,
to let the rays rest on my goosebumps
and sink into the warmth.
I think I am destined to be cold.
To shiver under my own scornful gaze in the bathroom mirror,
because even though I only ate dinner,
I still woke up fat.
I never asked to be covered in stripes,
these scars that have defined me and
defiled me.
Before I even knew what it meant to be marked
I knew to hide.
I knew to pray that the earth would swallow me whole,
because at least in the ground nobody has to see me.
The sunflower turns to face the sun,
to feel the warmth on its petals.
And one day I will peel off these layers of death on my bones
and I will face the sun
and let it burn.
