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Why does he give me false hope? Why did he say “I Love You?” Why does he make me feel not good enough?   Can’t he see I’m fragile?
Looking at me, People assume I'm a healthy, happy girl.   Invisible illnesses are forgotten when disability is brought up.   This poem isn't about my genetic disorder, or the surgeries,
I wasn't meant to be beautifulI wasn't meant for the pleasing of your eyesor the stirring of your inner loveI am meant to set a fire beneath youto make you quake in your boots
You make me happy when skies are grey. And even when they’re not.   Because we are taught That things are conditional. I’ll do this, If you do that.   For some reason we struggle
I am worthy of something better. I'll put this in bold letters. I am worthy of a motherly love, though that's something you cannot provide.
If it isn’t my skin, then what shall it be? The two arms and legs that extend directly from me? That enable me to run past the wind, and jump the hurdles in front of me.
  Her stride so poised She floats with every step she makes in her nude Pigalle heel Demeanor, so regal it demands respect
I stand here before you with a smile on my face trying to determine my place in this race for success.
We hold a high position.Standing with a strong attitude in the way we walk and talk.No man will respect the women who can’t run her own race, but every man will respect the woman who can hold her own.
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