They say I am weak.

I am little.

I am poor.

I am ugly.

I am what they say.

No.

I am not defined by my wallet.

By my talent.

By my scores.

By my looks.

By my family.

By my past.

I am defined by how I am still smiling,

Despite all those things

That I thought defined me.

Those things may have cut me.

Bruised me.

Bent me.

Cracked me.

But they were molding me.

Into the person I am now.

I am strong.

I am worth it.

I am beautiful.

I am who I say.