I let people mark me.
I get affected.
It touches my skin and leaves its skids and tracks.
I get fat. I get thin. I get under eye circles.
I get scarred. I get blue pink purple rainbow. I get taller. I get tattoos.
I live and I die and I survive and I thrive.
I’m not ashamed. I manifest my beauty by what I have lived and how I’ve loved.
It isn’t me, but it’s what I’ve done.
I’m not ashamed of my scars. I’m not ashamed of my body. It’s a vessel machine that has served me well. I allow it to exist without pressuring it to be anything other than what it needs to be, and in return, I keep it as healthy as I can.