Am I beautiful i ask myself when i look into the mirror

almost as though i should say "mirror, mirror on the wall"

i criticize my body in the mirror

i first look at my hair; blonde but not blonde; brown but not brown

its wavy in places but straight in others

i then look at my eyes; green at some points; then blue at other points

they seem to almost cut into your soul

i then look at my stomach 

muscles show i have a six pack as some have said but all i see are scars

i then look at my arms and legs longer than normal

my legs have scars yet i show them for they have plenty of muscle

i turn and look at my profile

skinny like that of a runner or dancer

then i look at my back 

covered in scars from the past from when i was young and wild

though i still am young only a teenager

i am only a teenager

only a teenager yet i ask myself am i beautiful

i have worked all my life to stay in shape and not be the one called fat

my mom walked in when i was criticizing my body

she pulled me close and answered the question that i had been asking myself

i am beautiful in my own way