Hiding All of the Memories


There is a white scar on my forehead

from when I was a kid and fell playing in the backyard chasing butterflies.

I have a small gap in the middle of my two front teeth

from waiting too long to pull the baby tooth out because I was scared.

My cheeks are constantly flushed rosy pin

from always laughing and getting way too excited about the little things in my life. 

There are purplish bags under my eyes

from the hours awake spent studying working to achieve my goals in life.

My nose and cheeks are speckled with spots

from the hours spent playing in the sun during the summer.

Each scar and miniscule detail tells a story.

Why would I choose to disguise it?

Why would I want to hide all of the memories?

It's okay to have imperfections -- even though society will tell you differently.

They are what makes me who I am, and I'm happy to tell my story without a #filter.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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