I never let them see me naked, they will be too afraid of the flaws...
So I disguise myself in distinguished clothing to cover up the scars...
I go to cover girl when I want to been seen in HD...
I don't pull the price tag off of my Chanel when I want someone to know the price of me....
I get undressed in the dark to hide the ugly marks,
too ashamed to show the physicality of my pain, so I avoid showing my covered parts....
If the world only knew what was really underneath, they would probably call me a liar for using clothes to to mislead my identity....
I have those disgusting wounds all over my body, one constantly coming after the next, they are getting harder to hide....
I may as well change Gods altogether and wear a burqa when I venture outside...
I try to become a barbie doll, with the hair and accessories,
but after awhile a girl gets tired of posing, and just wonders quietly behind the plastic, will someone real ever notice me...
If my skin melted away and I was only left with my soul, would anyone recognize my ancestors history and with unbiased eyes see the story being told...
Will they allow me to unravel and become perfect seams at their feet, or would they try to paint a pretty picture over a pig to cover up what it is they really see.
Who will accept these marks, and say they highlight my journey, that is still left undone,
who will love my imperfect skin and readily love the pecan shell that I am wrapped in...
Who will play God and no matter what or who I am love me unconditionally...
Who will send away the cosmetic surgeon, trace my scars with their bare hands and breathe life in me....