The scars you can’t see
Masks, scars, first impressions
Parts of me that clothes hide
Bits of me under painted on makeup
If you’re lucky enough to stand close to me or lay beside me you will notice a beautiful scar a straight line across the side of my face.
A wound that a girl left reminding me that my history has not been flawless.
The me then fighting to be heard
Resolved only for a moment by putting my hands on someone
and them swinging back.
I went from putting Vaseline on my face
in exchange for it on my teeth and a crown.
In the Q&A
When asked what I would do with the crown
Me as reina
And I respond…
first thing I’d do is collect every single child who has ever known abuse, abandono, neglect and pain…
I would beat the shit out of every adult who raises a hand to a child
Would I have won?
Have I won?
Does not define me…
Yet it is an important part of my story
Reminds me that I have been places
My life has value
I am alive
My story has purpose
I have survived
This scar that I wake to
does not make me ugly
It is the pure definition of me
She has lived a life
And so it is~
Time is up!