Skin

Stretch marks and blemishes,

On the skin we live in,

Freckle face and crooked tooth,

The skin that shows in patches,

We don't need to listen.

We don't care what you think.

We have our own perogative.

No matter the color of skin,

In a world obsessed with perfection,

Our skin tells a different story.

Stretch marks, blemishes, and scars,

Each one a mark of our glory.

Unapologetically we wear our skin,

A canvas that tells our tale. Our history.

And family, and all our business is in it.

Freckles scattered like constellations,

Each one unique and oh so frail.

Crooked teeth and mismatched smiles,

Imperfectly perfect in every way.

For we are not defined by standards,

But by the beauty we display.

Our skin, a manifestation of our journey,

From every laugh, cry, and memory.

A tapestry of life's imperfections,

That we proudly wear for all to see.

So don't tell us to hide our flaws,

Or conform to society's demands.

For in our skin, we find strength,

And we won't let them tie our hands.

So let the stretch marks and blemishes,

Be a symbol of our resilience.

For in the skin we live in,

In all the colors of the rainbow of skin-

We find our truest brilliance.