super model

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
i just... yeah. this kinda speaks for it's self. enjoy.

Submitted: December 05, 2011

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Submitted: December 05, 2011



i look in the mirror,
each scar glows violet.

his name,
my heart,
my battle wounds.

they each tell a story,
they all have a purpose.

i stare at my figure,
i hate it,
people call it perfect.

"the most beautiful,
most outstandingly slim body",
they say.

they want to touch me,
they want to have me.

but when our skin colides,
it's like fire.

memories come back,
they see my old wounds.

they're discusted,
telling me i'm nothing,
no longer perfect.

but then,
when i was revealed,
when he saw them.

he traces them,
kissed them,
told me i'm still beautiful.

i don't understand how,
after so many people called them hidious.

so maybe i'm not perfect,
maybe i'm not beautiful,
but he makes up,
for what i lack.

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