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It is hard to unwrap beauty To hope for others to see past the lies A blank stare of your nudity Or a porcelain face in disguise   Underneath the flters Where I would rather hide
When I was a young child, I loved myself. I confidently strutted my polka-dot sweater and striped skirt,
I don't think I was ever meant to be beautiful.
Maybe one day I will find someone who doesn't see right through me Change the path he's walking
Once upon a time I was still in healing So I scribbled into a notebook a list Of things I love about myself To help myself recover And number one on the list was “The freckles on the back of my shoulders”   This is still one of my favorite things
Leave me As the stinking flesh melts off the body of its unfortunate host. Rain falls upon your dripping locks. Blood pools around your sodden feet; Or is it rain? No one knows. My grave is not marked.
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