By Aundréa Murray

Looking at you in delightful disgust.
Reminiscing on our pasts, relishing on the memories.
Hurts as much to touch as it did to feel.

Yearning to prove my fearlessness when my 6 year-old feet left the 2nd floor platform.
Trying to eliminate my flaws through busting teenage blemishes.
Dying for expression while I let the long needle penetrate my skin.

I found beauty within the dark depths of your outer ugliness.
A manifestation of my individuality.
A demonstration of my bravery.
Symbolic of my imperfections.

Contradicting the endless hallucinations of your ideals;
I remain the woman of life experiences.
Listen to the many tales I have to share.
Envision the countless tribulations I’ve endured.
Or simply admire the quality of my character through the exhibition of these

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